The Track of a Storm
by Lady Taliesin
Summary: James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about thinks him dead
1. Hush, Little Baby

**A/N** - Well, here we are again, ladies (and gentlemen). A James-comes-back-fic - but different, I promise. And so, now you've got past the horrible attempt at a decent summary, I present, without further ado:

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 1 – Hush, little baby…_

_October 31, 1981_

James Potter frowned, feeling slightly annoyed. Ten years of practice with Remus and he thought he'd be better than this – the utter pointlessness of the activity notwithstanding, he was now being beaten at a staring contest by his one year old son.

Harry tilted his head slightly, gazing bemusedly at James with wide, innocent, and unblinking emerald green eyes. "Foo?" he queried, yanking on a strand of his father's jet black hair and giggling as James winced.

"Yes, Harry – food. Now can we eat the food, please? Daddy's already failed two out of three of his Harry-duties today, so we –"

"Pahfoo." interrupted Harry solemnly, pushing the jar of muggle baby food away from him. "Pahfoo eas foo."

"No, this is Harry's food, not Uncle Padfoot's." said James, grabbing the glass jar as it teetered on the edge of the table. "And Harry needs to eat his food, or Mommy's going to be annoyed with Daddy…" Harry pouted but opened his mouth dutifully as James steered a spoonful of apricot colored mush into his mouth. "Whoosh! And he _scores!_ Another _superb_ goal scored by yours truly, James Potter… And now it's Black to Potter, and Potter to Pettigrew, and Pettigrew to McGonagall – she really can fly Harry, don't let her fool you otherwise – and McGonagall to Harry, and _zoom!_ It's – well, it's almost in, there we go – and it's _in!_"

Harry giggled as James spiraled the spoon again, nearly splattering it against the opposite wall as he brought it through a loop-the-loop into Harry's mouth. "And _another_ ten points to Harry Potter, star of the Gryffindor quidditch team…!"

"Corrupting him already, are you?"

James whirled around, a guilty grin on his face as he gazed at Lily, who was leaning against the doorway and giving him a strained but amused smile.

"'Corrupting?'" repeated James, in a voice of mock horror. He turned around and picked up Harry, who looked very glad at the temporary reprieve from dinner. "I most certainly am not 'corrupting him' – you like quidditch, don't you Harry?"

"Ick." confirmed Harry sleepily, nuzzling against his father's shoulder. Lily laughed, walking over to kiss her son on the head. Her long auburn hair was swept back into a messy ponytail and there were dark, tired circles under her eyes – it had been a long, long time since either of them had had a decent, dreamless night's sleep.

"Mommy thinks it's time for bed." she murmured, brushing a strand of jet black hair away from Harry's face. "Take him upstairs, would you James? I have to finish cleaning the kitchen."

James rolled his eyes and began to pull his wand out of his front pocket, stopping at the look on Lily's face. "No magic." she said firmly, pushing him gently towards the door. "Now go put Harry to bed."

"Pahfoo." mumbled Harry, grabbing tightly onto the collar of James' robes and closing his eyes. "Mauders."

"You," whispered James, reaching the living room and walking carefully around scattered toy broomsticks, blocks, and a small stuffed black dog, "Are just about the smartest kid ever."

"Aby?" asked Harry, yawning and opening his eyes enough to gaze at James questioningly.

"Lullaby? Sorry, Harry, but that's Mommy's job."

"Aby!" insisted Harry, louder this time. James rolled his eyes.

"Uncle Padfoot's corrupting you already, hmm?" _Don't think about Sirius. Don't think about the fact that he could die pretending to be your secret keeper, about the fact that last week might be the last time you saw him, ever… Because Sirius is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine, everything, because I will never let Him come near my son, never never never… _"Alright. What lullaby do you want to hear?"

"Pahfoo."

"Well, as far as I know he hasn't composed one about himself yet, so I'm afraid we're stuck there." _Everything is going to be fine, Sirius is going to be fine, and Peter is going to be fine, and everything is going to be alright…_ "Um…Twinkle twinkle little star?"

"Ick."

"Right." They had reached the foot of the stairs now, Harry still nestled against James' shoulder. James stared down at him, his heart constricting painfully in his chest. How could anyone want to hurt this…? "Well, Daddy is a pretty awful singer, Harry, so this probably won't match up to Mommy's standards…"

"Aby!"

"Gotcha." Taking a deep breath, James rested his head gently against the top of Harry's, his son's mop of soft, jet black hair tickling him lightly. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but inside his heart was screaming. Someone wanted to kill this. Someone wanted to murder his son.

And he was afraid.

Not for himself, but for Sirius, who was risking torture, even death, to pretend to be someone he was not. For Peter, who was living in hiding to protect their secret. For Lily, who he'd dragged near death too many times already. And for Harry. For his son. _But everything is going to be fine. Because I will never let him hurt you Harry, never, I promise…_

"And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna –"

Suddenly, without warning, the claxons began to ring.

James' face blanched, his hazel eyes growing wide behind thick, wire-rimmed glasses as he held Harry tightly to his chest. The house was shaking beneath his feet, the claxon-like alarms growing more piercing and strident… Lily rushed out of the kitchen, her hands covered in soapsuds and her face deathly white. "The wards," she breathed, searching frantically through her pockets for her wand. "How…?"

"I don't know," said James, his voice shaking. "Maybe, maybe it's just a false alarm, or something…" _Oh God, no…__this isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening…it's a false alarm, or the muggles next door, or something but it isn't him it isn't it isn't it isn't…_

The alarms were shrill and intense now, the sound of them grating like a knife against James' ears. Harry was fully awake, staring up at James with frightened but trusting emerald green eyes…Lily's eyes… _He can't be coming for you, Harry, he can't be… Peter, and Sirius…noooooooo this isn't happening, it isn't, it isn't…_

And then, with one last, shuddering scream, the wards died. All sound stopped as a cold breeze gusted through a window that shouldn't have been open, and James backed slowly away from the front door, passing a strangely quiet Harry to Lily and still praying desperately that it was all a mistake, that the muggles next door had accidentally set the wards off, that it wasn't Him…

_He can't be coming here, he can't be because Peter never would have told him, never… Oh God please let Peter and Sirius be alright, please let them be fine… This isn't happening it isn't it isn't it isn't it isn't it isn't it is –_

The door burst open in a wave of emerald green light.

James threw himself sideways, grabbing Lily's shoulders and yanking her behind him as the door exploded, fragments of splintered wood shooting past them as someone outside let out a high-pitched, cruel laugh…

_No._

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –" His voice was rising but he didn't care – he didn't care what happened to him, as long as Lily and Harry were safe… "Go, Lily…please…"

Lily stumbled backwards, Harry clutched tightly against her chest – her eyes were wide as she stared desperately at James, unwilling to leave him… And then there was another cruel laugh coming from inside the doorway, and James shoved her roughly backwards, towards the stairs. "Go!" he whispered frantically, turning around and thrusting his hand in his pocket, feeling for his wand. He could hear her stumble up the stairs, could hear her harsh, ragged breathing…

And then he saw him.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter – we meet again."

Thin, spider-like fingers were idly twirling a long, dark brown wand, and crimson eyes were staring out at him from a pallid, skull-like face. Lord Voldemort.

"Do you know something, Mr. Potter?" continued Voldemort, stepping deeper into the house, his scarlet eyes drilling it James' face. "Do you know how many people I've killed? Hundreds – and tonight one more. And the people fear me, Mr. Potter. They even fear my name."

He laughed, and James had to fight the urge to step backwards. "I do not fear you, _Voldemort_." he snarled, summoning as much courage into his voice as he could manage. "And I will _never_ let you touch my family."

"No?" said Voldemort softly, taking another step forward. "I believe your father once said the same thing… I killed him and your mother, shortly afterwards…" Lidless eyes stared at James, eyes which flickered with savage delight. "It seems that after tonight I will have had the pleasure of killing three generations of Potters…"

"You will not touch Harry!" said James, his voice rising as his hand grasping his wand began to shake. "I will –"

"Protect him?" Mere feet from James now, Voldemort raised his wand, pointing it straight at James chest – but James didn't move, just glared defiantly at those empty, mocking eyes. _I will protect him, you bastard, even if it means dying._ "I fear it's too late for that… your first protection didn't work, did it? You were betrayed…"

James' breath caught, while his mind screamed. _I wasn't betrayed, you goddamned liar, you killed them! Sirius and Peter…you murdered my brothers… _"You will not touch Harry." repeated James hoarsely, not bothering to hide the fact that his voice was cracking. "I'll die before I let you touch him."

Voldemort smiled humorlessly. "I think that can be arranged."

James yanked his wand out of a hidden side pocket in an instant, throwing himself sideways as a massive jet of emerald green light burst forth from Voldemort's wand, exploding against the far wall. Rolling to the right, James pulled up in a crouch, ducking behind the couch as another spell whipped over his head. His ears were ringing, Voldemort's words echoing in his head – _The people fear me…three generations of Potters…betrayed…_ "_INCENDIO!_"

Voldemort waved the spell away, walking slowly to the other side of the couch. "Trying to dodge death, Mr. Potter?" he said amusedly, as James rolled out of the way of another killing curse. "I'm afraid you won't be able to escape this time… Your friends aren't coming to save you, now…"

"I don't need to live to succeed, you bastard." hissed James, flinching as a shard of glass from a shattered picture frame sliced against his arm. "_Elecebra!_"

Voldemort deflected the spell with an idle flick of his wand. "Crucio!" he said quietly. James threw himself sideways, but it was too late – the curse slammed into his chest, throwing him backwards into the far wall and spearing his mind with a thousand tendrils of icy, searing pain. White hot daggers were piercing his flesh, twisting and burning inside of him, and he wanted nothing more than to scream, than to beg him to stop, for it to end… _But I will not let him have that, I won't I won't I won't I won't oh God, let it stop, **let it stop!** _

Voldemort raised his wand slightly, and, as suddenly as it had come, the pain ended. James slumped against the floor, trying to ignore the dull, aching throb in his head enough to stagger to his feet. His right hand, still clutching his wand, was a pale, bloodless white, and there was a coppery, acrid taste in his mouth…blood.

"You know, _James_, I'm rather disappointed in you." Voldemort was advancing on him slowly, his wand held straight in front of him and his nostrils flaring with ill-concealed excitement. "I had expected some sort of fight from you…some sort of resistance…"

"**_STUPEFY!_**" James was on his feet, a huge jet of brilliant red light shooting out the end of his wand as his auror training kicked back in. _Do not show pain…show him you are hurt and you are dead… _He could almost hear Mad-Eye Moody's gruff voice, drilling the lesson into his head – and then he remembered that Sirius had been there the day they had learned that. Sirius was probably dead now. _Padfoot…_

With an idle flick of his wand Voldemort blocked the stunning spell – it swerved around him, colliding with the opposite wall with an echoing crash. Several pictures lit on fire and fell to the ground, smoldering.

"Elecebra!" James shouted, ducking behind the couch as the spell rebounded and smashed against the wall he had been in front of moments before. "Expelliarmus!" _Please be gone by now, Lily; please have taken Harry and left…_

"Avada Kedavra!"

James ducked as a jet of green light flew past his head, smashing into the fireplace and sending a shower of bricks and rubble raining down on him. He covered his head with his arms but could feel something smash against his temple, right above his left eye… But there was no time to think. "_Stupefy!_"

Voldemort stepped casually, almost carelessly to the side, not bothering to flinch as the spell flew past his head, charring the far wall. "Crucio!"

James spun out of the way as the curse flew past his head – pivoting on his heel, he turned back to face Voldemort, blood still trickling down his face. "Petrificus totalus!" _As though that will hold him for a second…_

Voldemort flicked his wand and the spell flew past his head – a cruel grin twisting his face, he raised his wand toward what was left of the brick fireplace. "Discutissium."

The fireplace exploded. James threw himself to the side, trying to dodge the jagged, boulder sized pieces of brick and mortar smashing to the ground around him. Sharp flecks of crumpled brick were embedding themselves in his arms, which were bleeding freely… _Lily's gone, she has to have left by now…_ He coughed, trying to gaze through the blinding haze of chalky dust swirling around him, and staggered to his feet, his wand held shakily in front of him. _Get out, Lily… be gone, please please please be gone…_

Crimson, snake-like eyes were staring at him through the curtain of dust, eyes which no longer looked amused. "I think, Mr. Potter," said Voldemort softly, "That I have let you live long enough."

Hypnotized, James stared as Voldemort slowly raised his wand, pointing it straight at his chest. He couldn't fight anymore; he couldn't force his body to move…

"Flagellium."

A whip of brilliant white fire burst forth from Voldemort's wand, dripping with searing, pulsing silver beads of flame, and lashed itself around James' arm. He cried out, falling to his knees as wave upon wave of blinding, fiery pain wracked his body; he couldn't breathe as the pain crushed against his lungs, pulsating and intensifying – blackness tinged his vision and he couldn't see; he could feel nothing but pain, **_pain_**… And then the pain slowly began to recede, disappearing everywhere but his right arm, where it grew, pulsing and beating frantically until it took every ounce of his strength to keep from screaming…

"An interesting little spell, isn't it?" said Voldemort, walking casually towards James, who was crouched against the floor, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. "One of my own inventions. I find it has highly useful…qualities." Voldemort yanked up sharply on his wand – still entangled within the blazing whip James' right arm snapped back, and James cried out again as a burning pain spread through his shoulder.

Not lowering his wand, Voldemort stepped forward, pressing one long, thin finger against James' neck. James shuddered but said nothing.

"You see, Mr. Potter?" whispered Voldemort, his own snake-like face inches from James', "You fear me."

"I – do – not," gasped James, closing his eyes. _Lily…Harry…_

Voldemort laughed. "No? Then you will soon enough – or you would, if you lived long enough… You see, as soon as you are dead I will go upstairs, and kill your son…"

"Lily – and Harry – are – gone," spat James, stifling a cry as Voldemort yanked up harder on his wand. "You won't – touch them…,"

"Gone? You really think so?" Voldemort laughed again, and James could feel his breath catch…they had to be gone by now, they _had_ to be… And then he heard, from upstairs, the sound of crying – _Harry…_

"**_NO!_**" The scream was ripped from his mouth before he had time to think – they were still here, they hadn't escaped, he had failed them… The whip of flame disappeared as Voldemort pointed his wand at him, still laughing – he could see Voldemort move his lips as he lowered his wand to point at his chest, but he couldn't hear anything but cruel, merciless laughter ringing in his ears… Then there was a jet of emerald green light, and silence.

**ooooo**

Voldemort lowered his wand, his crimson eyes dancing with the light of the small fires still smoldering in the wreckage. James Potter's still, lifeless body was lying before him, blood still trickling from more than a dozen wounds.

He bent down, shifting his wand to his left hand and dipping two long, spider-like fingers into a pool of slowly thickening blood. Lifting it to his mouth, he tasted it – it was still warm, the taste coppery and acrid in his mouth. He smiled.

"I think, Mr. Potter," he said softly, staring with a cruel sort of satisfaction at James' open hazel eyes, which looked haunted, even in death, "That you failed."

He spat on James' face, kicking the body away from him as he stood up and strode towards the stairs. He could hear the mudblood, trying to shush the whelp as she searched desperately for a way out…

Tonight would be the end of it. Tonight he would kill the Potter child, and his immortality would finally be assured… He could still feel power surging through his veins, heightened by Potter's death, and he smiled as he reached the stairs and began to ascend. Tonight it would end.

* * *

**A/N** - Alright, so maybe it's not so different from all those other James-comes-back-fics yet. But, it will be. Soon. VERY soon. How soon, you ask? There's only one way to find out, you know. 

Reviews are loved, flames (without, profanity, if you please) are appreciated, constructive criticism is held up on a pedestal and worshipped. And, my friends, the only thing I love better than constructive criticism is a LONG review. Y'all know the formula: Lots an' lots of reviewers equals happy author equals more writing equals quicker updates.

In other words - please review.


	2. Camros

**A/N—**So, there were many issues today with the whole new-story-uploading thing…FF(dot)net has crap TOS, per usual, and so now the new story won't be online for at least 5 days (at which point it'll be available at harrypotterfanfiction(dot)net. I'll post a link on my profile here as soon as it's up, and if you leave me a review asking me to message you as soon as it's up I can do that, too :) In the meantime, as a sort of apology, here's the rewritten version of Chapter 2, featuring 2 new scenes and 2 slightly revised scenes, and, uh…not really any new plot developments. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the whole new story for that...Again, I am SO SORRY, and I will tell you all the instant it comes online! Thanks so much!! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

_April 29, 1987_

It was nearly evening – outside the sky was just beginning to turn to red and orange and gold, while inside long shadows carpeted the stone-tiled floor of the conservatory and threw the surface of the small indoor pond into a riot of fiery color.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what it is you're asking of me," said Lucius Malfoy slowly, his pale aristocratic face carefully schooled into a look of casual indifference. "I gave you the money you requested for your…expedition…to Albania two months ago. And now you return, unexpectedly and with no information at all, and ask me to –"

"To listen," interrupted Augustus Rookwood, his normally pleasant voice now hoarse and grave as he strode side by side with Lucius down the greenhouse pathway, his boot heels clicking sharply against the stone. "I'm asking you to listen, Lucius. To listen, and not to interrupt with useless banter. I came here to talk."

Lucius bristled silently. "Indeed. About what, may I ask?"

Augustus stopped abruptly, turning around sharply and fixing Lucius with a cold, icy blue stare. "About the 'expedition'. That's what you're so afraid about, isn't it?"

Lucius stiffened. "I'm afraid of nothing," he replied shortly, turning away from Augustus and continuing to stride along the narrow, winding path. Augustus hurried to catch up with him.

"Nothing?" repeated Augustus in an undertone, brushing aside the leaves of an enormous jungle plant as he regarded Lucius through coldly amused eyes. "Really. Well, then – what you're wondering about. The expedition was, you'll be pleased to hear, a resounding success."

Lucius stopped dead. "A – what?"

Augustus laughed softly. "I succeeded, Lucius. And yet, oddly, you don't sound pleased to hear it…"

"I – no. You're mistaken – I am thrilled, I'm sure." Lucius paused, and swallowed. "Is he…"

"Here?" finished Augustus, his voice softer now, and harsher. Lucius nodded, and Augustus smiled. "Yes. He is. Right here, right in this very room." Lucius froze as Augustus reached up to carefully pull down the thick black hood drawn over his head. As it fell back Lucius drew in a quick breath – all of Augustus' once thick mane of dark brown hair had been completely shaven away. And then Augustus turned around, and Lucius dropped to his knees, too shocked to do anything but stare. Blood red, snake-like eyes, slits for nostrils, a lipless mouth curling into a cruelly amused smile… Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort had returned.

**OOO**

"It was – it was _him_, Narcissa. He was staring out at me from the back of Augustus' head and I didn't – I didn't know what to do, it was all so fast and I couldn't…I couldn't even…" Too wracked with emotion to speak, Lucius sank down onto his bed and buried his head in his hands. "It was him. It was the Dark Lord. He's…he's back."

"How?"

Narcissa's voice was barely more than a whisper, but even so it rang loudly in the otherwise silent room. Lucius shook his head. "I don't – I don't know. We knew he didn't die but I didn't think – Augustus found him. I was sure he wouldn't but he did, on that trip to Albania months ago…"

Narcissa exhaled slowly. "The trip you funded."

Lucius laughed bitterly, and raised his head to look at Narcissa. "Yes. And there's no need to point out the irony – I'm already drowning in it, I assure you."

Narcissa just shook her head slowly, and slid forward so that she was sitting right behind him on the luxurious silk-spread bed. "You're being too dramatic," she chastened gently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek against his. "Everything will work itself out – you'll see."

"And if it doesn't?" Lucius turned to look at his wife, and gently grasped her hand. "It's not…Things are different now. Now there's Draco, and we've been away from it for six years…It's just – how can we go back, back to killing and torturing, and all of that…and back to always living a step ahead of the Ministry, a step away from Azkaban? I don't – I don't _want_ that anymore."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Lucius sighed, and pressed her hand to his cheek. Narcissa just watched him in silence. "What is there to do? I'm to contact Severus, and in a few hours Augustus will return and we are to…to _assist_ in the Dark Lord's resurrection."

Narcissa shivered involuntarily. "We're trapped," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as Lucius pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly over to the room's large, ornate stone fireplace. It was cold and bare, but with a flick of Lucius' wand a fire burst into life in the grate, burning and crackling cheerfully as though it had been there for hours. "We're…there's nothing…"

"There's nothing we can do but wait," finished Lucius softly, pulling a handful of emerald green floo powder out of an elegant china vase on the mantelpiece and flinging it into the fire. The fire roared and turned a brilliant emerald green, and he glanced over his shoulder, favoring Narcissa with a last sad smile. "It will…it will all work itself out, in the end. I'm sure of it."

Narcissa nodded, and watched through bright eyes as Lucius stepped into the fire and said clearly, "Hogwarts." There was a sudden rush of emerald flames, and he was gone.

She sank backwards onto the bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling and trying her best to ignore the catch in her throat as she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

"I'll…I'll wait, then."

**OOO**

Severus closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and grounding the yarrow somewhat harder than necessary as he fought off a yawn. Only two more hours – two more hours and he was done. The fire had nearly burned out, and the potion simmering in the cauldron before him was giving off a thick, golden steam…which only served as a reminder that he really was very, very tired. Thirty hours without sleep – but the Headmaster's potion was almost done, and then he could finally go to bed.

"Hello, Severus."

His hand, still gripping the pestle, froze. He knew that voice, even if he hadn't heard it for months…"Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy, his long, silvery-blonde hair swept back into an immaculate ponytail and completely awake and composed even in spite of the late hour, sauntered into the room, casting his grey eyes appraisingly over shelf upon shelf of potions and ingredients. "Still awake, Severus? It's past midnight, you know. I expected to find you asleep, not up and…tinkering."

Severus, his tiredness vanishing in an instant, turned around, his voice neutral but his eyes wary. "To what do I owe the…pleasure of this visit, Lucius?"

Lucius ran his fingers along the side of one of the glass jars. "Other than the desire to see how an old acquaintance was faring…We need to talk, Severus."

"Well, then," said Severus smoothly, returning to the potion, which was now bubbling and frothing vigorously, "We can talk later."

"No," said Lucius, his voice hardening. "We can talk _now_."

"And about what, may I ask?"

"About…about a matter of very – very _grave_ importance." For the second time that night Severus stiffened.

"And what," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "Do you mean by that?"

Lucius laughed softly. "Really, Severus. I know as well as you that this castle has ears – and, seeing as how this is a _private_ matter, I think it best we go to the Manor to discuss it."

"I have classes tomorrow."

"I assure you, Severus, I wouldn't have come if it weren't worth your time." Lucius' hand stilled on a small glass vial tucked into the far corner of a shelf of potions – the glass was smoky and darkened, but even despite that a fierce, fiery orange light crept through the glass and made all of the other glasses and jars nearby sparkle and glow brilliantly. "And bring this, as well." He tossed the vial to Severus, who caught it, looking stunned. "You might find it…helpful." Reaching into a small glass jar next to the fireplace, Lucius pulled out a handful of emerald green floo powder and threw it on the smoldering fire. "Make whatever excuses you like to the Headmaster –we'll be expecting you at the Manor in ten minutes."

A moment later he was gone.

Severus exhaled slowly, sinking into the nearest chair and closing his eyes. Grave importance, indeed.

**OOO**

Draco opened his eyes blearily. A few golden shafts of daylight creeping through his window and across his bed and the lone piping of a single bird in the distance were the only signs that a new day had begun – the sky outside was murky, a slice of the half-moon outside still visible through the clouds. It was early – far too early to be awake.

Sitting up, Draco swung his legs over the side of his bed and dropped down silently. Padding softly over to the large window at the far side of the room, he peered through the frost-tinged glass. Just as he'd thought there was a merry, emerald green fire burning in the farthest room of the right wing. Father _did_ have visitors, then. Straining his eyes further, he could pick out black, indistinct shapes walking back and forth. One…two…three…

"Master should not be up yet."

Draco yelped and whirled around, suddenly finding himself face-to-face with a reproving house elf dressed in nothing but a neatly folded pillowcase. "Gwell! What are you doing?"

Gwell glared at him, ignoring the question. "Young Master is to _stay in bed_ until Mistress says otherwise. Mistress told Gwell, and Gwell is telling young master, and young master –"

"I'm not staying in bed," interrupted Draco stubbornly.

"But Mistress –"

"Don't tell Mother, Gwell! Please don't tell her, or I'll, I'll…" Draco floundered, and Gwell crossed her arms pointedly. "I'll give you clothes!" he said at last, watching with a strange sort of satisfaction as Gwell's mouth fell open.

"Clothes? Master would give Gwell _clothes_?" Her high-pitched, squeaky voice rose until it was almost impossible to hear her. "But, but _master_ –"

"Don't tell Mother," he repeated mulishly. At last, conceding defeat, Gwell's ears drooped.

"Gwell must do as Master wishes," she said sadly, shuffling back towards the door. "Gwell will be outside, if Master is wanting anything." Standing on tiptoe and pushing open the door, Gwell glanced back one last time at Draco, her green eyes very large and saddened. Then she turned and trudged out, closing the door softly behind her.

Draco stared at the closed door for a moment, suddenly feeling very small and cold in his silky green pajamas. Then, with a small, nervous laugh, he bounded over to the far wall and pulled aside a thin, threadbare tapestry. With one last, backward glance he darted through the hidden passage and down the tightly winding, dust-covered stairwell, quickly disappearing from sight.

Twenty minutes later he cautiously pushed open the trapdoor in the far corner of the library, poking his head out and breathing a small sigh of relief when he saw that the room was completely dark – no one else was there. Clambering out of the passageway, he stole silently to the door and pushed it open. It opened noiselessly, and he tiptoed down the hall, which was completely dark except for the flickering light of an emerald green fire.

At last, reaching the final door at the end of the hallway, he crouched down and pressed his eye against the narrow crack between the door and the doorframe. He could see his father and mother, talking in hushed voices with a dark-haired man whose back was to the door – and then, with a final _whoosh_, the emerald green fire expelled its final visitor. Father, Mother, and the other man fell silent at once, and Draco shivered involuntarily.

"Severus," said the newest visitor at last, moving into view. Draco frowned, feeling more confused than ever – it was Mr. Rookwood, one of his father's friends. "How nice to see you again."

The dark-haired man turned, and suddenly Draco recognized him – Severus Snape, a professor at Hogwarts and one of his father's friends. Draco couldn't remember having seen him in months – Mr. Rookwood, on the other hand, had been a weekly visitor before his trip two months ago.

Snape inclined his head, his greasy black hair covering his sallow, hook-nosed face as he replied curtly, "Augustus."

Mr. Rookwood laughed softly. "Come now, Severus – we haven't talked in years. Surely you've something else to say to an old friend?"

Severus didn't answer, and Mr. Rookwood, still laughing, walked over to Draco's mother. She stiffened slightly as he bowed low and made a great show of kissing her outstretched hand. "Narcissa, my dear – two months older and as stunning as ever." She managed a thin, tight-lipped smile.

"It's good to see you again, Augustus."

Augustus straightened, the hood thrown over his face veiling his eyes but his elegant smile matching his words as he whispered softly, "Your hospitality is, as always, greatly appreciated."

"Much as I hate to break up your little reunion," interrupted Snape, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice, "I'm afraid that I cannot stay long – should I miss any of my classes the Headmaster will become suspicious."

Mr. Rookwood gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "'Suspicious?' Then by all means let us not keep our potionsmaster waiting…You've been told why you were brought here?"

Draco saw Snape glance sideways at Father before answering. "I…yes. I have."

"The potion is ready, then?" asked Mr. Rookwood smoothly.

"Yes," replied Snape curtly. Reaching into his robes, he drew out a small, silvery flask. Even through the crack in the doorway Draco could see a bright orange, fiery liquid sloshing inside of it, casting brilliant patterns of light on the wood floor. Mr. Rookwood, a strange gleam coming into his eyes, reached for it hungrily, but Snape took a step back.

"You do realize," he said softly, staring fixedly into Mr. Rookwood's eyes, "That there are certain adverse…side effects…to taking this potion?"

Mr. Rookwood laughed harshly. "Side effects, Severus? Do enlighten us." Mr. Rookwood reached behind his head and pulled his hood down.

Draco clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. Mr. Rookwood had shaved all of his long, dark brown hair away, and where the back of his head should have been there was now a face, a snake-like face with blood-red, scarlet eyes, a face with slit-like nostrils and skin whiter than a skull, a face which was staring straight at him through the crack in the doorway.

The hand still pressed tightly to his mouth now shaking uncontrollably, Draco backed away hurriedly, nearly tripping over a suit of armor as he let out a muffled sob. Crimson, cat-like eyes were burning through his tightly closed eyelids, and he collapsed to the ground next to the suit of armor, shaking and crying. The voices in the room had fallen silent, and then he heard a shrill, high-pitched laugh. The door opened, flooding the hallway with dim, flickering orange light, and Draco pressed himself back against the wall as Snape strode out, his black robes billowing around him and a faint orange light emanating from his left hand, which was still closed tightly around the vial.

He stopped before the suit of armor, and Draco, his grey eyes wide, gazed up at him. Severus, his black eyes unfathomable, stared at Draco indecisively for a moment – a second later he gave a small, cruel sneer. "Mr. Malfoy – simply couldn't contain our curiosity, could we?" Reaching down, he grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him to his feet before striding back towards the door, Draco stumbling as best he could after him.

"It would appear," he said smoothly, reentering the room and dragging Draco behind him, "That young master Malfoy has been eavesdropping."

Draco cast his parents one small, terrified glance. His mother was motionless, her face frozen in a look of shock – his father hesitated for an instant, and then dropped down to one knee, bowing his head before the face still staring at Draco from the back of Mr. Rookwood's head.

"My lord, I beg that you excuse my son," said Father swiftly, his eyes fixed determinedly upon the bare wooden floor. "I assure you he will tell no one what will happen here tonight, and that he will be punish–"

"Are you presuming to give me orders, Lucius?" asked the face, its voice deceptively soft and venomous. Draco whimpered softly, and Snape's grip on his shoulder tightened warningly.

"Never, my lord," replied Father hurriedly, now bowed so low his head nearly touched the floor. "I would never presume to contradict your lordship, and I have forever been your most humble servant – I am merely asking that you refrain from –"

"Refrain from what, Lucius?" whispered the face – _Voldemort,_ Draco realized with a surge of panic. "The boy has dared to listen to our most private conversations…I believe a demonstration of our true power will be sufficient tokeep his mouth shut." The crimson, cat-like eyes rested on Draco a moment longer, filling him with numbing, freezing terror – and then they turned away. "The potion, Severus."

Severus hesitated. "My lord, I –"

"The potion, Severus," repeated Voldemort, his voice brooking no argument. Severus bowed his head deferentially, and, apparently satisfied, Voldemort gave a small, twisted smile. A second later Mr. Rookwood turned around, his face strangely passive, his ice blue eyes empty. Reaching out woodenly, he grabbed the vial from Severus' outstretched hand and, pulling off the stopper, raised it to his mouth.

Unable to turn away, Draco could only stare, transfixed, as something else flickered in Mr. Rookwood's eyes. There was hunger, and desire, and crimson red, slowly thickening blood—and then Mr. Rookwood closed his eyes, drained the vial, and swallowed.

Nothing happened.

For several long moments Draco, his mother, father, and Snape stared, waiting for something to happen.

And then, without warning, Mr. Rookwood began to scream.

He fell to his knees, shaking convulsively and wrapping his hands around his throat as he gasped desperately for breath – his ice blue eyes were wide in disbelief, staring unseeingly at the ground as ribbons of blood trailed slowly down his chin and dyed his lips a deep crimson red. The firelight shone mockingly off of his shaved head, and someone was laughing, laughing in a high-pitched, cruel voice – and now Draco was screaming too, unable to stop himself and unable to tear his eyes away.

Mother yanked him away from Snape's limp hands, pulling him behind her and holding him close. But Mr. Rookwood's screams were still echoing in his ears, and rivers of blood were still streaming before his closed eyes…

And then all noise stopped, and Draco, terrified to look but equally terrified not knowing, peered around his mother's shoulder.

Mr. Rookwood lay curled on the floor, still and silent now. Another man was rising slowly from the floor, the firelight flickering off of a figure that looked more a corpse than a man. _Voldemort_. Mother, Father, and Snape were all kneeling, their heads almost touching the floor as Voldemort turned around and surveyed them through crimson, blood-red eyes.

"I believe you mentioned 'side effects', Severus?" he said lightly, bending down and prying Augustus' wand from his stiff fingers. He twirled it idly in his fingers, which were almost unnaturally long and thin.

"Yes, my lord," replied Snape, his smooth voice betraying neither fear nor amazement.

"And do you have any more to add, now Augustus is dead?" continued Voldemort, now staring at his outspread hands in obvious satisfaction.

"There is…one other," said Snape after a moment, raising his head to look at Voldemort. Draco ducked down again, shivering as he tried to hide behind Mother. "The Camros Potion is an ancient, powerful magic – if drunk in its purest form it will raise not only the drinker, but also those whose immediate blood he shares."

"Tom Riddle and my mother," said Voldemort sharply, raising his head to look at Snape. Snape didn't flinch.

"Yes, my lord."

Voldemort stared intently at Snape for a moment, his red eyes narrowing slightly – a second later he laughed. "That is easily dealt with. Narcissa."

Draco whimpered softly as his mother rose, her eyes downturned and her expression emotionless. "Master."

"Apparate to the Little Hangleton cemetery. Should Severus' 'side effect' come to pass, kill both Tom Riddle and my mother." Her head shot up, a slightly frightened look coming into her eyes.

"Master, I –"

Voldemort stared at her coldly, lowering his wand so that it was pointed straight at her chest. "_Now,_ Narcissa."

"Yes, Master," she murmured, bowing her head. "Forgive me." Glancing sideways at Lucius one last time, she closed her eyes and disapparated with a loud crack.

Voldemort smiled coldly before turning to face Snape and Draco's father. "Tomorrow, Lucius, you will summon my remaining Death Eaters to the Manor. Until then – tell no one." Raising his hands before his face one final time, he gave another small, cruel smile, closed his eyes, and was gone.

Snape drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and slumping into the nearest chair with a groan. Father threw him one small, cursory glance, then turned to Draco, who was huddled against the floor, his grey eyes hollow and his mouth slightly open. Unsure what to say, he knelt down awkwardly next to Draco, who turned his wide, haunted eyes on him.

Draco swallowed, his throat almost too tight to speak. At last, his voice hoarse, he managed to whisper, "I-I'm sorry," He swallowed again. "A-and tell Gwell, t-tell her I'll never, ever g-give her clothes, I, I pr-promise…" He shivered and closed his eyes. "I _promise_."

Two hundred miles apart, three people awoke. Ten minutes later two of them were dead.


	3. Bagges and Problems

**A/N - **whistles softly Wowee - 14 reviews since the last update. For me that's huge - thanks, guys. Anyway, here it is, the long awaited chapter: James comes back. Sort of. This chapter's rather short (sorry), but I think the next one's longer so hopefully that'll make up for it.

IMPORTANT - There are lots of OC's in this chapter. Yep, you heard me - OC's. Never fear, however - these guys are all well into their seventies, so no sudden love interests for James. If you'll look above you'll see that this story is under the genres drama and general, meaning that none of our canon heroes will be involved in anything but canon romances. However, the one thing you should know about my dear OC's is that they have nasty accents - just bear with me, please.

And now I present to you...

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 3 –'Bagges and Problems_

_April 30, 1987_

Darkness. And pain.

_Screaming. Someone was screaming…it was himself. And there was a laugh, a high-pitched, cruel laugh, and he kept screaming, and screaming…_

More pain.

_"As soon as you are dead…"_

He couldn't feel himself, he couldn't feel _anything_…he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't move his fingers, couldn't feel anything but _pain_.

_"You fear me, you fear me, you fear me… as soon as you are dead…" _

Dead.

_He_ was dead.

**_DEAD._**

For the first time in five years James Potter screamed.

His eyes flew open, but there was nothing but tight, suffocating darkness surrounding him. He gasped involuntarily – the stale air was close and rotting, and he couldn't breathe, _couldn't breathe…!_

A thousand memories assailed his mind – _Lily, Harry, Sirius, Peter, Voldemort, Remus, betrayed betrayed **betrayed...**Voldemort was laughing, Lily was screaming, Harry was crying…Sirius was grinning at him, Peter smiling nervously – Lily was laughing, laughing… _"**_NOOOOOOOOOO!_**"

Nearly hyperventilating, he threw himself sideways, slamming his shoulder against moist, rotting wood. It bent under him, and he slammed into it again, and again… _Harry was nestled against his shoulder, looking up at him with large, emerald green eyes…_ There was a coppery taste in his mouth, and he could feel his throat begin to tighten as the air around him ran out… "_LET ME **OUT!**_"

The grave exploded. Six feet of earth burst outwards, and the half-rotted coffin blasted apart with a rending, earsplitting **BANG!**

_"As soon as you are dead I will go upstairs, and kill your son…"_ Blurred images were shooting one after another through his head – Lily, Harry, Sirius, _Harry..._ He stumbled to his feet, staggering sideways and somehow managing to drag himself out of the crater-like hole he had just created. _Harry was laughing, Harry was smiling, Harry was crying…_

_Harry was dead._

Harry and Lily – his beautiful, beautiful Lily – were dead.

He fell to the ground, gasping. _Dead, dead, dead…_ Lifting his head, he could see a white marble tombstone before him.

JAMES POTTER

1960 – 1981

And, next to it, another stone:

LILY EVANS POTTER

1960 – 1981

_Dead. _

James Potter closed his eyes and cried.

**ooooo**

"Ice mice." snapped Severus impatiently, glaring at the stone gargoyle which was steadfastly refusing to move aside. "_Ice mice!_"

The gargoyle blinked sleepily at him, and, at last, reluctantly sprang aside. Stepping quickly onto the staircase, he strode hurriedly up the slowly-circling steps, not bothering to wait for it to reach Dumbledore's office.

The large wooden door to the Headmaster's office was slightly ajar when he finally reached it – knocking sharply on it but not bothering to wait for an answer, he pushed it open and stalked inside.

Dumbledore was sitting behind a large, rather messy desk, poring absorbedly over a thick, musty tome. He glanced up and smiled cheerfully when Severus entered. "Ah, Severus! Have you finished my potion, then?"

Ignoring what Dumbledore had said, Severus strode forward, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm. "I think," he hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring Dumbledore's stifled gasp at the sight of the ebony-black Dark Mark burning on his forearm, "That we have a slight problem."

**ooooo**

Tom Boyle took another long draw from his pipe, squinting through the thick haze of smoke now wreathing the room at Ham Happer. "Cats." he said at last.

Joe McMardling nodded wisely. "Bloody pests." he said philosophically. The other two men grunted their consent. "Eatin' all my turnips an' my 'bagges," continued Joe, starting to get really fired up. "An' ne'er a word a'thankee, nuther!" He coughed. "Bloody pests." he finished, gazing superiorly at Tom and Ham as though daring them to contradict him.

"But cats," said Ham slowly, inhaling meditatively from his pipe, "Don't eat 'bagges."

"An' I'm a'tellin' ye, Happer, my 'bagges an' my turnips is gone!" said Joe hotly.

"Turnips aren't in question." interjected Tom.

"Cats don't eat 'bagges." repeated Ham stubbornly. "Cats eat mouses. An' turnips." he added, as an afterthought. "Mouses an' turnips."

Tom and Joe both remained silent, and for several long minutes the room was quiet. At last Tom removed his pipe from his mouth. "What about 'em Potters, eh?"

"Dead." muttered Ham.

"Yeah, but I knew 'em." continued Tom, warming to the subject. "I knew Mister James an' Miss Lily, afore 'at house blew 'em up. A nicer people ye couldn't find if ye tried."

"But they're dead fer six years."

"Yeah, but what 'bout lil' Harry Potter, I-should-like-ta-know. Din't hold no burial fer _him_."

Joe grunted. "Maybe so, but what I'm a'sayin' is, cats. All I'm a'sayin' is they're bludy pests, an' make no mistake 'bout it, Ham Happer, they's a'eatin' my 'bagges."

"An' I'm a'tellin' _you_, Joe McMardling, they din't eat no 'bagges, they eat –"

**_BANG!_**

Joe and Ham both jumped – Tom, who'd been taking another draw from his pipe, choked. "Sumpin' at the door?" asked Tom, recovering.

"Nar." mumbled Ham, screwing his face up as he tried vainly to hear the noise again. "'Cross in yer graveyard more's like."

"Are ye goin' ta get that, Tom Boyle?" came a thin, reedy voice, drifting from the upstairs.

"Doncha worry yerself 'bout it, Mabella." shouted Tom, grabbing a large, checkered gray overcoat and pair of galoshes. "An't some blighter at the door, I'll a'promise ye that."

Joe and Ham, still puffing steadily at their pipes, watched with mild interest as Tom donned his overcoat, galoshes, cap, gloves, raincoat, and cane. "Well, yer comin', aren't ye?" he said, starting towards the door. Joe and Ham seemed to contemplate this – after a moment Ham took his pipe out of his mouth.

"Dark out." he grunted. Joe nodded wisely.

"Well, o' course it is, ye bludy ol' Happer; an't e'en three o'clock yet, eh? Now are ye comin'?"

Joe and Ham both shook their heads. Noticing that Tom was still glaring at them and feeling that the point needed, perhaps, more clarification, Joe removed his pipe.

"Thieves." he said. "Whatcha think bloody noises would be a'comin' from yer cemetery now fer, eh? Bloody body-snatchers, an' I an't a'goin' after 'em."

"Body-snatchers, shoddy-patchers, Joe McMardling – aren't any body-snatchers anymores, an' ye know that s'much as I. Now ye two are comin', or I an't Tom Boyle!"

He glared at them until, at last, Joe picked up a green felt cap and began to fiddle with it shiftily. "A'seein' as how yer Tom Boyle," he began, half-rising out of a large, rather scruffy-looking flowered armchair, "An' a'seein' as how yer seemin' ta feel disinclined to us not a'followin' ye out ta yer graveyard, an' a'seein' as how Mrs. Mabella Boyle seems ta want ta know who's it at yer door…"

"An't nobody at the door." interrupted Ham, who was leaning back comfortably in a dark green-and-gold plaid armchair and seemed to have no intention whatsoever of going with Tom.

"Be that as it may, Ham Happer, I'm goin' ta go out an' see what poor devil's a'makin' such a racket in the graveyard. Now if ye want ta make yerself useful I'd be a'goin' upstairs an' helpin' Miss Mabella make up a room." Pulling a faded pink flashlight out of a an overstuffed drawer, Tom tried to turn it on – it flickered halfheartedly for a moment, then, helped by Tom's efforts of whacking it several times against a nearby armoire, stopped sputtering and cast a steady, if feeble, yellowish light.

"Right!" said Tom cheerfully, pulling his cap a bit lower down on his balding head and hoisting his umbrella against his shoulder. "Now yer a'comin', Mister Joe?"

"Yes, I s'pose." mumbled Joe, standing up fully and hobbling towards the door. "But I'll a'tell ye what we're goin' ta find, Mr. Boyle – we're a'goin' to find one of 'em body-snatchers, an' ye make no mistake 'bout it. That're it's some bloody cat a'feastin' on my bloody 'bagges." he added to himself, still grumbling as he followed Tom out the door.

Despite the fact that it was nearly three in the morning a handful of stars were still sprinkled across the sky, shining brightly despite the few rays of pinkish sunlight casting a faint glow on the ground. Pipe still sticking out of his mouth, Joe frowned. "An't natural ta be a'seein' stars out now, eh? They're a'spyin' on us, I'll warrant ye."

"Stars spyin' on us?" said Tom, scoffing. "Yer head's full a' toadstools, Joe. D'rectly o'er the graveyard, that bright one is – it's a'guidin' us ta whatever poor blighter's got himself a'bangin' out 'ere tonight."

"How many times, Tom Boyle? An't no poor blighter, I'm a'tellin' ye – it's one of 'em damn body-snatch–"

He was cut off as Tom pulled open the rusted door to the graveyard – it creaked loudly, drowning out Joe, and, flashlight held straight forward and cap perched jauntily atop his head, Tom proceeded inside, Joe shambling after him.

"Well…," said Joe, peering forward with great solemnity, "Don't see nutin' could's be a'called a **bang**, 'xactly – an't no body-snatchers, nuther. 'Xept p'raps fer that dog a'lyin' next to that grave o'er ther 'bouts, but he an't a'lookin' like he could be a'stealin' no bodies, no how."

"Ye duffer o' a McMardling – an't no dog, an' an't no body-snatcher, nuther." Shooting a reproving glare at Joe, who was standing beneath one of the yew trees overshadowing the entrance and smoking pensively, Tom raised his flashlight a bit higher and limped over to a white marble tombstone some meters away. As he neared he could see that some sort of explosion had ripped the grave apart – shreds of rotting wood and mounds of blackened earth lay strewn about the grave, and at the foot of the headstone a figure lay curled up, shaking slightly but otherwise silent.

"Are ye alrigh', sir?" called out Tom, holding the flashlight out in front of him like a poniard and advancing slowly around the blasted grave. "Din't think ye were one of 'em body-snatchers, did I now, eh? One of 'em body-snatchers, 'deed – just a feller's caught hisself in the wrong place in the wrong time, _I'd_ a'think. Just a – why, I'll be buggered!" Tom stopped before the person lying on the ground, blinking several times.

"Mister James!" he said at last, grunting as he squatted down next to James, "Din't think ta be seein' ye again, I reckon! If it's ye, I'm a'meanin' ta say, or if this an't one of 'em funny dreams Mister Ham's always goin' on abouts…" He shrugged off his raincoat and laid it over James' still-shuddering body before raising his voice. "Joe! An't no body-snatcher, just as I told ye; an' an't no dog, an' an't one of 'em bloody cats. Now come o'er here and help me be a'gettin' him back to the house." Reaching down, Tom grabbed one of James' arms and got awkwardly to his feet.

"I must say, Mister James," he said cheerfully, as Joe shuffled into view. "It's awful strange ta be seein' ye, seein's yer dead an' all…but most nice too, all's the same."

* * *

A/N - Please, please, _please_ tell me whether you think I should keep the guys' (and gal's) accents or drop them, or whether you don't care either way. I won't be insulted, I promise.

Thanks guys, and keep 'em coming! Remember - reviews are splendid, flames are appreciated as constructive criticism in disguise (without profanity, please), and constrctive criticism is revered. And long reviews are...quite simply the best, really. grins

Next update - _Traitors_. In which James becomes (somewhat) fully functioning, Ham reveals his suspiciously Dursley-ish side, and we are treated to the cameo appearances of everyone's favorite Head Boy and quidditch captain.

'Til then - toodles!


	4. Traitors

**A/N -**Sorry this update is a little later than usual, but I was away for the Fourth and didn't have internet access. Posts should (hopefully) be more regular after this.

After reading over all the reviews and receiving everything from "I love 'em" to " I can't understand them" on the accents, I've decided to keep them. The general opinion was something like 3 to 1 on "love 'em" vs. "hate 'em", so they're staying. Never fear, however, all my reviewers who couldn't understand what they were saying. Only three more chapters of this, then they're gone. : )

Anyways - here it is, chapter four. Happy reading.

7/12/05 - Due to a load of confusion regarding what, exactly, Percy is saying at the end of this chapter, I've re-uploaded it with handy-dandy translations, which are at the bottom of the a/n. Hopefully that should clear up most of the confusion.

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 4 - Traitors_

_May 2, 1987_

He groaned, screwing his eyes shut and rolling over. "Five more minutes." he grumbled. _Lily laughed._

_"You're already five years late, love." she whispered, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his face. Eyes still shut tight, he frowned._

_"I'm –"_

_"You're five years too late, darling." she murmured again – he could feel her hair brush against his chin as she settled herself down next to him. "Five years too late…" _

"Are ye alrigh', Mister James?"

_Lily laughed again. "Five years late…" she whispered, her voice almost mocking. "You're too late…" Her voice was fading now, as though she were leaving – panicking, James reached out to touch her –_

- And instead grabbed the gnarled, arthritic hand of the elderly woman sitting next to his bed, gazing concernedly at him through rheumy, pale blue eyes.

"Are ye alrigh'?" she repeated, her voice rather high-pitched and wavering. James, his hazel eyes growing wide behind a pair of thin, rickety bifocals that were quite obviously not his own, stared at her.

"L-lily?" he said at last, his voice shaking slightly.

She frowned, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "No," she said gently, trying vainly to push James back down onto the pillow. "Miss Lily an't here…"

All at once a thousand different memories assaulted James' mind.

He could dimly hear Mrs. Boyle's voice, but it was quickly drowned as memory after memory flew past his tightly closed eyelids. _Lily, Harry, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Voldemort_… He retched, gasping as Sirius stared hopelessly at him, his chest bloody and his head bowed… And now it was Harry, his green eyes wide as they reflected the glow of a beam of emerald light…

"Yer alrigh', Mister James…" Strong hands were holding him down, and someone was speaking to him in a gruff but kind voice…didn't they understand! They were dead, all of them, all because of him…!  
"No,no – get off me,_ **get off me!**_" he screamed, convulsing as Lily laughed, her hair whipping in an autumn breeze. "Please…please," Voice fading as his body grew limp; James' last waking sight was of a man with a weathered but kind face, dark brown eyes, and thin but wiry steel gray hair. Then his eyes closed as unconsciousness claimed him.

_May 5, 1987_

Fingers fumbling, he finished buttoning the slightly too-large white shirt and looked up. A man with gaunt hazel eyes and unhealthily pale skin stared back at him, black hair lying untidily around a face that looked much older than its twenty-one years. Swallowing, he turned away and walked with short, jerky steps into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him.

As he neared the stairwell he could hear voices drifting from downstairs, mingling with the sizzling of bacon and the sound of a door opening and shutting. "I told ye, din't I, Tom?" said one voice proudly, growing louder as James began to slowly descend the staircase. "I says, 'cloudy nights a'bring cloudless days' – an' I was right, warn't I? No' e'en ten an' sky's as blue as jays."

"Rain's a'comin'." grunted another voice darkly. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, James could see that it belonged to a grizzled old man with browning skin and thick, pure white hair, which hung over his face and nearly hid one sharp, almost black eye. Where his other eye should have been there was nothing but an empty socket, barely covered by a frayed, graying patch. The first man, who was rather scrawny and was wearing a pair of huge glasses that made his brown eyes look several sizes too large, scoffed.

"Now, Ham Happer, yer a'bein' all dours and grimmers no' goin' ta change the facts. An' the facts, Ham Happer, is that the sky's blue an' the birds are a'singin'. It's spring, I'll warrant ye."

"Been spring fer months, so far's I can see, an' hasn't been a pleasant day afore now. An't no reason fer it ta start now." said Ham sourly, crossing his arms.

"Are ye boys arguin' again?" came the shrill, high-pitched voice of Mrs. Boyle. Just out of sight of the kitchen James stopped, watching as she tottered over to the table, an enormous platter of bacon held between her hands. "Always arguin' in my house, ye are – well, dig in, an' eggs an' toast are comin'." Setting down the plate so that it was perched precariously atop a large stack of old newspapers, she hobbled back into the kitchen.

James stood perfectly still, ignoring his growling stomach as he stood hidden in the shadows of the doorway and stared through the large, open window behind the rickety kitchen table. Godric's Hollow – _home_ – should have been on the other side of the small brook winding its way through the grass there, surrounded by a small grove of rowan and apple trees. The windows should have been open, and Lily and Harry should have been there, and Sirius and Remus and Peter…

But now the trees were all gone, and all of the windows of the ugly, tan-colored house that now stood where Godric's Hollow had been were closed. _Home…_

"Ah, Mister James! Din't know ye were up!" Mrs. Boyle had reentered the room, her pale blue eyes sparkling brightly from behind a teetering stack of golden-brown toast. "Budge yerself o'er, Joe McMardling, an' give Mister James a seat."

For half a second James considered turning and running through the half-open front door – running away from _everything_ – but then with slow, uneven steps he walked into the kitchen and sat next to Joe, who had amenably moved over at Mrs. Boyle's demand.

Joe and Tom paid little heed to him as both loaded their plates with toast, sausage, bacon, and eggs, which Mrs. Boyle had just brought in – Ham, however, was holding his fork suspended over his plate and was staring at James, a strange, hostile expression on his face.

"Well," said Tom at last, pushing his plate away with a contented sigh, "Now, seein's yer up an' all, Mister James, what do ye want us ta be doin' with ye?"

Startled, James looked up, involuntarily knocking over his glass of water as he stared at Tom. Where did he go now? Lily, Harry, Sirius, Peter – _everyone_ – was dead…everyone except for him and -

_Hogwarts._

Throat suddenly dry, he opened his mouth hesitantly. "I –"

"He can go back ta his grave, an' be done with him." interrupted Ham suddenly, glaring fiercely at James with his one eye. "Nuthin' good'll come of harborin' ghosts, Tom Boyle; an' besides, I knows some _friends_ who'd be willin' ta hear a' him."

James froze. For a split second he thought Ham was talking of Sirius, or Remus or Peter – but there had been a dark glint in Ham's eye, and he was reminded of a man six years younger, talking in a low voice with several hooded figures…

"Now, stop yer yabberin', Ham Happer." said Tom sternly, interrupting James' thoughts. "We an't gonna be a'sendin' him back ta his grave, or none a' that hogwash – he'll stay here 'til he gets somewhere else ta go."

"How's he comin' outta his grave, eh?" muttered Ham, his white hair falling over his face as he bent down over his breakfast once more. "S'what I'd like ta know – seen lots a' things, an' I seen better men die, an' none of 'em ever comes back. He's the devil or a liar, Tom Boyle, the devil or a ruddy liar." Ham speared a sausage with his knife, raising it to his mouth and continuing to mutter darkly to himself.

Realizing that he was staring at Ham, James dropped his gaze and instead looked unseeingly at the slowly widening pool of water still trickling from his toppled glass. _The devil or a liar…_

**ooooo**

Thoroughly engrossed in finishing tomorrow's transfiguration homework, Percy didn't bother to look up as Oliver Wood tapped him impatiently on the shoulder again. "I'm quite busy, Oliver." he snapped crossly, pulling a weather-beaten copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration closer to him and ignoring the high-pitched giggling of the two second-year girls sitting across from him. "If this is about the quidditch game tomorrow…,"

"It's not about that," interrupted Oliver impatiently, pushing aside a large stack of books and tumbling into the seat next to Percy. "It's _this_."

Percy frowned, absently pushing his horn-rimmed glasses higher up on his nose as he took the Daily Prophet from Oliver. "What –"

"There!" Oliver jabbed at a small article on the right side of the page, which was nearly hidden by a large photograph of the Minister beaming and shaking hands with several goblins. "See!" said Oliver excitedly, as Percy continued to stare at him dubiously. "Read it, go on…"

**Azkaban – freed? **

_A special report by correspondent Eran Crofton_

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft

and Wizardry, this morning announced that he and the Minister of

Magic, Cornelius Fudge, have begun discussing the possibility of

removing Azkaban Prison from the control of the dementors. This

move, which several anonymous officials within the Ministry are

regarding as "pure rubbish", is currently in the design stages only –

and, according to Auror Morcant Dawlish, is likely to stay there.

"Day dementors leave Azkaban's the day You-Know-Who comes

back." claims Dawlish, with a slight laugh. "Not happenin' on my

watch." While many regard the dementors as the only thing

standing between the prisoners on the island and escape, others –

most notably Albus Dumbledore and Auror Alastor "Mad-Eye"

Moody – have a differing perspective. When asked the reason

for this move, Professor Dumbledore stated "I have always

believed – and I continue to believe – that the Ministry is wrong to ally

itself with such creatures as the dementors." Whether the Ministry

will actually relinquish control of the prison from the dementors will

be decided on Wednesday, May 13.

Percy snorted and handed the paper back to Oliver, who was watching him expectantly. "Like it said, 'pure rubbish.'" said Percy wisely, picking up Scabbers, who was sitting next to his plate, and shoving him back into the front pocket of his bag.

"'Pure rubbish?'" repeated Oliver indignantly, standing up as Percy dumped the rest of his books into his bag and began to stride down the hall. "How is this rubbish!"

"It's _obvious_ the Minister will never go through with it." said Percy pompously, turning his head slightly to look at Oliver, who had hurried to follow him. "It's madness."

"It was Dumbledore's idea!" defended Oliver stubbornly. "And, well, he's a little strange, yeah, but still…"

Percy only tutted loudly as the two left the Great Hall and began to walk across the grounds towards the greenhouses. "Meaning no disrespect to Professor Dumbledore, of course," he said bossily, walking slightly ahead of Oliver and looking back with a condescending air, "But really, Minister Fudge knows better than to –"

"Insultin' the Headmaster now, eh?" Percy and Oliver stopped short as Marcus Flint, a burly Slytherin second year with a known penchant for fighting, stepped out of the shadows of the castle. He leered at them, and Percy, his pompous air deflating rapidly, took a step back.

"I most certainly was not insulting Professor Dumbledore!" he said indignantly, with considerable more bravado than he felt. "I was merely –"

"Ah, Percy?" interrupted Oliver in an undertone, staring nervously at Marcus, who was cracking his knuckles and sizing them up threateningly.

"What?" snapped Percy, distracted.

"Shut up."

"You were insultin' P'fessor Dumbledore." interrupted Marcus Flint, taking a step forward and glaring down at them ominously. "Heard you."

"I was merely – what're you – **_aah!_**"

Too late Percy tried to duck as Flint lunged forward, his right arm swinging. There was a sickening crack, and a second laterPercy was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his right jaw and staring up at Flint incredulously.

Flint, looking slightly dissatisfied that he had beaten Percy so easily, stepped forward so that his foot was on Percy's chest. "You insulted P'fessor Dumbledore." he repeated mulishly. "I heard you." Percy glared at Flint, his horn-rimmed glasses askew and his lower lip cut and bleeding.

"Get off of him!" piped up Oliver, his voice shaking slightly as he skirted around Percy so that he was face to face with Flint. "Get off, or, or I'll…" Oliver's voice trailed off as Flint growled menacingly.

"Or I'll curse you into oblivion." finished another voice cheerfully. Turning around, Flint found himself staring straight into the extended wandpoint of Bill Weasley.

Although he was smiling amiably, Bill's bright brown eyes were deadly serious. "Get off of him."

Flint opened his mouth, apparently thought better of what he was going to say, and closed it again. Reluctantly he stepped back, away from Percy. Bill smiled pleasantly.

"Very good. Now get out of my sight, before I change my mind and decide to curse you anyway."

Mumbling incoherently to himself, Flint lumbered back towards one of the courtyards and was soon out of sight. Bill bent down to help Percy to his feet.

"Knew it was only a matter of time before something happened." he said, sounding amused but oddly proud. "Here, let me see that…" Tossing his wand to Oliver, who was staring at him and looking rather awed, Bill leaned down and inspected Percy's jaw, where a large, reddish welt was already appearing. He whistled softly.

"Congratulations, Perce. You've just received your first dislocated jaw."

"Fishk i'." said Percy, his eyes watering as Bill prodded his jaw gently with his finger. Bill ignored him.

"What were you fighting about, anyway?" he asked, picking up Percy's bag, which had fallen to the ground when he had toppled over. "A girl?"

He turned back with a grin that quickly faded as he saw that Percy was glowering at him. "What?" he asked, baffled. "I'm not going to report you, or anything…"

"Wan't ficing." said Percy angrily. "Fishk i'."

"Flint said Percy insulted Professor Dumbledore." interjected Oliver helpfully. "But he didn't, really…" Bill looked devastated.

"Well, it was kind of a fight for honour, I guess." he said half-heartedly. "There wasn't a girl involved at all?" he asked hopelessly. Oliver shook his head.

"Well, we should probably get you to the hospital wing, then." sighed Bill, shouldering Percy's bag over his own and taking his wand back from Oliver. "No, I can't fix it by myself…hold up a moment…" He stopped, riffling through Percy's bag with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Perce, where's Scabbers?" he asked, looking up at Percy. Percy glared at him suspiciously.

"Fisht oshket."

"Are you sure?" asked Bill, not meeting Percy's gaze as he continued to search through the bag. "Because, eh…he's not there anymore…"

"Coush 'e ith." said Percy crossly, grabbing his bag back from Bill. "Now fishk i' so wan't mith Herwolihe."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't blame me when you can't find him later." Sidestepping around Oliver and putting his wand back into his own bag, Bill led the way as the three trudged back up to the castle. "You know," said Bill brightly, after a moment, "I'm sure if you asked her Madame Pomfrey would let you keep that great big welt across your cheek. That'll definitely impress the girls, especially that one, Pen–"

Bill ducked just in time to miss the book Percy threw at him.

* * *

**A/N - **The translations for what Percy was saying are at the bottom of the a/n. Sorry for the confusion. 

I think that's it...thank you one and all for reading, and remember: "reviews are splendid, flames are appreciated as constructive criticism in disguise (without profanity, please), and constrctive criticism is revered. And long reviews are...quite simply the best, really."

Next update - _Shadows of the Past_. In which James and Tom have a pep talk, Dumbledore comes to Remus with a proposal, and Remus and Snape get into a snit.

Toodles!

- "Fishk i'." said Percy _"Fix it." said Percy_

"Wan't ficing." said Percy angrily. "Fishk i'." _"Weren't fighting." said Percy angrily. "Fix it."_

"Fisht oshket." _"First pocket."_

"Coush 'e ith." said Percy crossly, grabbing his bag back from Bill. "Now fishk i' so wan't mith Herwolihe." _"Course he is." said Percy crossly, grabbing his bag back from Bill. "Now fix it so won't miss Herbology."_


	5. Shadows of the Past

**A/N** - Sorry once again for the late update, but I didn't have internet access for a while and then wanted to give everybody a chance to finish HBP. I'm assuming most of you have finished it by now - I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

Due to loads of confusion as to what Percy was trying to say last chapter, I re-uploaded that chapter with translations at the bottom. Feel free to check it out.

Anyways...here it is, chapter five. Hope you enjoy!

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 5 – Shadows of the Past_

_May 12, 1987_

_Lily smiled languidly. "You know, love," she whispered, plucking his glasses off and toying with them idly, "We miss you." He could only watch as she sighed and settled her head on his chest, her long red hair falling about her in gentle waves. "Why aren't you here?" _

_He raised a hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, but couldn't say anything. She inched herself closer to him, her hands still playing with his glasses. "I think," she continued softly, staring intently at his glasses as she turned them over and over, "That Harry misses you more than me." She smiled and looked wistfully up at him. "Won't you see him, James? He's so big, and he looks so much like you, and he misses you so much…" _

_He swallowed, trying to unstick his throat. "I want –"_

_She laughed, dropping his glasses next to him on the mattress and standing up. Tying her hair in a loose ponytail, she leaned against the bedpost and looked him in the eye, a faint, sad smile tugging on the corner of her lips. "We all miss you so much – Sirius and Remus and Harry and me…" She sighed again and pushed herself away from the bed, walking slowly backwards towards the door. "Where are you?"_

"Mister James?"

His eyes snapped open as rough hands shook him awake. Tom Boyle was standing over him, smiling kindly at him as James fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses. "Dinner's ready fer ye, Mister James."

"I'm…not hungry." said James distantly, absently running a hand through his hair. Tom frowned sternly at him.

"Ye haven't eaten fer two days, Mister James. Miss Mabella's a'makin' plenty fer all, so –" Tom made to grab James' arm and pull him to his feet – instead James grabbed Tom's wrist, looking pleadingly into Tom's eyes.

"I'm not hungry." he repeated softly. Tom's look softened.

"Starvin' yerself won't do ye no good, Mister James." he said gently, sitting down on the rumpled covers next to James. "If it's Ham Happer yer a'worryin' yerself 'bout…"

James swallowed and closed his eyes, letting go of Tom's wrist and burying his head in his knees. "It's not that…," he whispered. "I just…" His voice trailed off, and for a few moments there was silence. At last he looked up, his eyes bright behind his glasses. "I died, didn't I?" he asked quietly. Tom frowned.

"Well, s'far's I knows, ye did." he said slowly. "An' it's strange yer here, really, but I s'pose life can be doin' strange things like that."

"No!" said James angrily, turning away from Tom and grasping his head in his hands. "It's not supposed to work like that! None of this was supposed to happen! Lily wasn't supposed to die, and Harry wasn't supposed to die, and Sirius and Peter and Remus weren't supposed to die… It's all wrong, all of it!" His voice was breaking now, his breath coming in hitched sobs. "Because He killed everyone, and now I'm back and I don't know why, because if anyone should be here it should be Harry, not me… And I've been here for over a week now and I don't know why I'm here, I don't know why they're gone, and I don't know how I can get through each day like this because inside, inside…" His voice cracked, and for a few minutes there was silence except for the soft, muffled sound of James sobbing.

At last Tom sighed and laid a hand on James' shoulder. "Heaven knows I'm only a simple man, Mister James," he said slowly, "But if ye ask me, I'd say an't no point wonderin' what's it has happened. Yer back, an't you? Don't know how ye are, but what's important s'that ye are, an' that ye do somethin' now ye are." James looked up at Tom, silently waiting for him to continue. Tom shifted somewhat uncomfortably.

"What I'm a'meanin' ta say is, I don't know as there's a reason yer back, an' I don't think it'd be worth wonderin' about, s'posin' there were. An' I may be a simple man, as Heaven would tell ye, Mister James, but if ye were meant ta come back then you were meant ta come back, an' I an't goin' ta waste away my time a'wonderin' why it's happened." James shook his head but said nothing. "An' 'bout Miss Lily an' 'lil Harry – well, can't pretend I know how's ye feel, 'cos Miss Mabella an' I, we've ne'er been separated fer more than a year or so, an' I don't know what I'd be a'doin' if she died…but I think maybe ye can keep goin', Mister James, 'cos they'd want ye to, see?"

"What do I have left to live for, with everyone gone?" whispered James. "He killed everyone, everybody I love…"

Tom frowned. "Well, I'm not tryin' ta be rude, Mister James, but are ye sure whoever it was 'as killed ye killed everyone else, too? Ye don' know but what Mister Sirius an' Mister Remus an' Mister Peter may be alive yet, eh?"

James looked up – his eyes were red behind his glasses. "He killed everyone." he repeated hoarsely. "He would've killed Sirius and Peter, before me…and, and Remus…" His voice trailed off.

Before they had performed the Fidelius Charm Dumbledore had told them that someone close to them had turned a spy to Voldemort. He hadn't wanted to believe it, had refused to believe it, at first… But Sirius had suspected it was Remus, and it had made all too much sense.

"Remus is dead, too." he murmured.

Tom continued to stare doubtfully at him, but didn't press the matter.

"Well, maybe it's Heaven 'as brought ye back, an' maybe it's Hell, but ye seem ta be James Potter, an' the James Potter _I_ knew wouldn't say no ta dinner." said Tom decisively, standing up and offering James his hand. James hesitated, then took it and allowed Tom to pull him to his feet.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, as Tom opened the door and led him out into the hallway. Tom turned around, looking concerned.

"Anything, Mister James, though can't be sure's I can have an answer fer ye."

"Why does Mr. Happer hate me?" asked James, raising his head and looking intently at Tom.

Tom's face relaxed. "He dasn't hate ye." he said dismissively, turning around and walking slowly down the rickety staircase. "Well, no more's than he hates most else, least ways. He's had a hard life, ye see – his mother an' his brothers died, when he was 'round fifteen, an' then his father, he was a ornery ol' drunk…an' after his father died, when he was 'round yer age, he went ta the war, an' he ain't never told no one what happened there. Din't know him then, o' course, bu' Miss Mabella did. He was in love with her, ye see."

James froze at this new revelation, staring at Tom's back as Tom made his way laboriously down the narrow, crooked stairs. "He was in love with her?"

"Yes. Still is, if ye ask me."

"But you're still –"

"Friends, aye. Why shan't we be?" Tom said this as though it were the most obvious question in the world. "Bu', back ta yer first question…he doesn't like ye much, jus' 'cos ye had everythin' he ne'er had. Ye had a family, an' ye had friends who were as good as brothers, an' there was always somethin' special 'bout ye, an' he knew it. An' now ye have another shot at life. He's jus' a smidgen jealous, s'all."

"Just a smidgen?" repeated James hoarsely. Tom either ignored him or didn't hear him, and they continued down the rest of the stairs in silence.

**ooooo**

"He's back?" whispered Remus hoarsely.

He could hear Snape shift restlessly behind him, but his eyes were focused only on Dumbledore."I am afraid that he is." said the headmaster gravely, his light blue eyes tired and somber behind his half-moon glasses. "I have it on very good authority," Dumbledore inclined his head towards the door, where Remus knew Snape was standing, "That early on the morning of April thirtieth Lord Voldemort returned."

Remus collapsed suddenly into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, his legs giving out as Dumbledore's words finally registered in his mind. "But he's gone, he can't –" he said, half wildly. He heard Snape clear his throat impatiently behind him.

Dumbledore silenced Snape with a look. "I'm afraid, my friend," said Dumbledore gently, turning back to Remus, "That Voldemort is once again very much alive."

Remus shook his head wordlessly, a small part of him still screaming that it wasn't true, it was impossible, Dumbledore was lying, he _had_ to be… "How?" he croaked.

Snape stepped forward, staring disdainfully down his hooked nose at Remus. "As I was going to say, before your little breakdown," he said scathingly, "The Dark Lord inhabited the body of Augustus Rookwood, and in this body drank the Camros Potion. Rookwood died, and the Dark Lord returned."

Remus raised his head, looking between Snape and Dumbledore. "'Camros?' But that's a myth, a children's tale…" Dumbledore shook his head, though it was Snape who next spoke.

"How unfortunate that your mediocrity in choosing your friends extends to your knowledge of potions as well." said Snape, a slow, cruel sneer twisting his mouth. "Camros is a flower, now believed to be extinct, which could once be found in the remotest valleys of the mountains surrounding the Persian Gulf. The potion is obscure, so I suppose an inept, bungling novice such as yourself _would_ believe it to be nonexistent."

"Enough, Severus." said Dumbledore sharply. Snape nodded curtly and stepped back, but not before fixing Remus with a cold, satisfied glare. Dumbledore turned back to look at Remus.

"As Severus said, the Camros Potion is a real elixir. And while its necessary ingredients are…rare, to say the least, it is quite possible that the Malfoys would possess them."

Remus swallowed, finally looking up and meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "And this potion…"

"Raises the drinker, and whoever's blood the drinker shares." said Snape, sounding rather bored.

"But that would include –"

"His mother and father, yes." interrupted Snape. "Naricssa killed them almost immediately after they were brought back." A slow smirk began to creep across his face. "Are you surprised, Lupin?"

Remus ignored Snape and closed his eyes. "And what do you want me to do?" he whispered.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, looking at Remus intently. "I need you," he said softly, "To guard Harry Potter."

Remus' eyes snapped open. "Guard _Harry_?"

Dumbledore nodded. "While it is impossible for Voldemort to touch him, there are other servants of the Dark Lord which _can_ kill Harry. As you may have seen in last week's paper, the dementors are being considered for removal from Azkaban. They will turn back to Voldemort – I need someone I can trust protecting Harry." Dumbledore leaned forward, noting with a slight pang of guilt that Remus' knuckles were white from gripping the chair arms. "I know what it is I am asking of you, Remus. I also know that I need you to do this – that Harry needs you to do this."

Remus shook his head weakly. "You…you don't understand, Professor. I _can't_ do this. I…I just…"

"No, this wouldn't quite be your forte, would it, Lupin." drawled Snape, his hand in his pocket fingering his wand. "That was always more Black and Potter's style…barging into other people's lives, claiming they'd protect everyone around them and getting everyone around them killed…or killing everyone around them, as it were…"

In an instant Remus was on his feet, a wild ringing in his ears as he grabbed Snape around the neck and threw him against the wall.

"My, my," whispered Snape, his black eyes glittering with a mixture of amusement and pain as he glared at Remus, whose face was barely an inch from his own. "Maybe this is the werewolf's métier after all."

"Shut up." hissed Remus, shoving Snape even farther against the wall and thrusting his wand against his throat. "Shut up, or I'll –"

"Kill me?" suggested Snape, his mouth twisting. "You couldn't. Though I'm sure Black would be delighted to hear you tried."

"**_Gentlemen!_**" cried Dumbledore, grabbing Remus' shoulders and pulling him away from Snape. Remus allowed Dumbledore to drag him back, though his eyes were narrowed and his teeth were bared in a snarl.

"I'm _not_ Sirius," growled Remus, wrenching his right arm free of Dumbledore's grip and pointing his wand straight at Snape's throat. "And you say anything, _anything_ about James…"

"Remus!" said Dumbledore sharply. Remus turned to glare mutinously at the Headmaster, then yelped and dropped his wand as though scalded. "I do not ask that you two become friends," continued Dumbledore, his eyes flashing as he pushed Remus forcibly into the seat in front of his desk. "I do not even ask that you learn to tolerate each other. I simply ask that you_ stop antagonizing each other long enough to help me!_"

Remus swallowed and dropped his gaze, his hands shaking as he felt his anger leave just as suddenly as it had come. Snape, for his part, looked just as cool and collected as ever.

"I'm sorry." murmured Remus, his face slightly red as he looked up at Dumbledore. "I didn't…I wasn't…" Dumbledore nodded, and Remus trailed off.

"As I was saying," continued Dumbledore, one warning hand still placed lightly on Remus' shoulder, "I need to know that there is someone I can trust – someone apart from Arabella – watching Harry. I don't know who else I can rely on, Remus. The old Order is all but gone, and I have no one else to turn to."

Remus stood up abruptly, his clenched fists still trembling. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes and nearly backing into Snape. "But I can't; not now…I'm sorry…" He reached the door and turned around, wrenching it open and nearly fleeing down the revolving stairs.

Dumbledore sighed wearily and turned to look at Snape, who quickly scowled. "It wasn't _my_ fault." he snapped irritably. Dumbledore just shook his head, and, still scowling, Snape turned around and strode out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**A/N - **A shorter chapter, I know. Don't worry, though...at the moment the next one is HUGE. And - better yet - this chapter was the last of the set-up chapters. Things actually start _happening_ in chapter six! 

Thank you everyone who reviewed, and, as always, remember this: "reviews are splendid, flames are appreciated as constructive criticism in disguise (without profanity, please), and constrctive criticism is revered. And long reviews are...quite simply the best, really."

Next update - _Retribution._ In which the Boyles have a dinner party, at least one traitor is revealed, James and Voldemort have a confrontation, and this story earns its PG-13 rating.

Bye!


	6. Retribution

**Chapter Warning: **

_This chapter is one of the main reason this bad boy is rated PG-13. I'm warning you guys now – this chapter has lots of violence! If you are uncomfortable with bloodshed and (sorry) character death, **READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.**_

**A/N** - Sorry for the long wait, guys. This chapter is rather long, and I agonized over it for quite a while, so there's your excuse. Like the chapter warning says, this chapter has LOTS of violence in it. If you are uncomfortable with that, then you might not want to read it. Terribly sorry. That being said...on with the show.

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 6 – Retribution_

_May 17, 1987_

His eyes slightly unfocused, James sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and his glasses laying several feet away on the grass. A cool breeze blew past him, ruffling his hair, and he looked up, squinting. There were black clouds gathering in the west – it was going to storm soon.

He could hear someone approaching him from behind, but didn't turn around until the footsteps drew to a halt next to him. "You know," said a light, pleasant voice, settling down beside him, "I do think it's going to rain soon."

James turned his head sharply – a man with tousled, reddish-brown hair and light grey eyes was sitting on the ground next to him, his browned, lightly freckled face stretched into a broad smile as he extended his hand. "Judd O'Conner." he said amiably, smoothing a rumbled olive sweater and settling down on his elbows, his legs sprawled out in front of him. "We're the Boyle's neighbors – my wife Allie and I, that is. We live over at Godric's Hollow, in that great brown monstrosity. We were away a few days ago, so you mightn't have seen us, but Mabella's told us all about you."

"You – oh?" managed James. Judd nodded, biting his lower lip pensively and staring at the black storm clouds still gathering in the horizon.

"Mmmhmm. Very pleased to meet you, Mr., Mr. – what was it, again?"

"James,"

"Ah, that was it – very pleased to meet you, Mr. James Reynolds. Allie's always been very keen to meet you – Mabella loves to tell all sorts of fantastic tales about her grandnephew's adventures on the high seas." He wrinkled his nose good-naturedly. "Allie loves strange yarns like that, between us."

Realizing that the man had mixed him up with someone else, James just smiled weakly and followed Judd's gaze, towards the clouds that were now billowing very fast toward them.

"So, where is our sailor off to next?" asked Judd at last, clapping James on the shoulder. Shaken out of his reverie, James turned to look at him, startled. "Mabella said this was a good-bye party." continued Judd, sitting up straight and smoothing his sweater again. "Said you were going away for a while, and she knew Allie was keen to meet you, so she invited us over."

Surprised and slightly annoyed that Mrs. Boyle had made up another identity for him and hadn't bothered to tell him about this earlier, James said shortly, "Scotland." Seeing Judd's puzzled look, he hastily added, "Only for a little while, though. Then I'm off to…" He paused, scrambling for a name. "Mongolia."

"Oh!" said Judd brightly. And then, after a moment – "Isn't Mongolia dead in the middle of Asia, though?"

"Well, yes," said James, his mouth quirking slightly. "But, you know, there's rivers and such…"

"Huh." said Judd, sounding rather impressed. "Rivers going all the way from the sea to Mongolia, you say? Well, I didn't know that, I'm sure…Allie will be delighted…" He fell silent, still sucking his lower lip meditatively.

"You live at Godric's Hollow now?" asked James at last, his head resting on his knees and his gaze distant. Judd turned to look at him, curls of coppery hair blowing around his face.

"Er…yes, Allie and I do. It's just us for now, but in July little Kacey's going to be born, and then it'll be us three." He beamed, his chest swelling – James could feel his own chest tighten.

"Oh." he said impassively. Judd looked at him, startled.

"Er, yes. We've lived there for three years now – there was another family before us, I can't remember what their name was. And before them it was the Potters, Lily and James and –"

"Harry." finished James softly. Judd stared at him curiously.

"Ye-es. You knew the Potters, did you? Very nice people, I've heard, before they died. Well, anyway, the house was really very nice then, but after they died the Slotsens – that was their name – built up this horrid thing instead." He looked at the house, which was just visible over a low line of bushes, fondly. "But it's home, and there'll be more than enough room for just the three of us. And – was that rain?"

James looked up – fat grey raindrops were falling slowly but determinably to the ground around them. Grabbing his glasses and shoving them on, he stood up, shivering – Judd stood up beside him. Judd grinned self-deprecatingly and plucked at his sweater. "Brand new, too. Come on, we should probably get in before it actually starts to pour."

No sooner had the two men reached the creaky old backdoor, almost hidden behind dying ivy and rusted old gardening tools, then there was a deafening BOOM and a flash of lightning. Seconds later thick, cold sheets of gray rain began to fall in waves.

"Well, that was lucky." said Judd brightly, shaking his head and splattering water everywhere.

"Yes, because imagine how terrible it would have been if you'd gotten in _before_ the rain had actually started to fall." said an amused but exasperated voice.

James turned around – a woman with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes was standing with her hands on her hips in the doorway, at least seven months pregnant and looking every minute of it as she glared at her husband.

"You," she informed him, unable to stifle a smile as he grinned and kissed her on the cheek, "Are impossible." He rolled his eyes and turned around to introduce her to James.

"James, this is my wife, Allie. Allie, this is James Reynolds, Mabella's grandnephew. He's the one she told you about, who works as a sailor for that trading company…,"

Allie's eyes brightened noticeably. "Oh, you're him? How wonderful – I've been wanting to meet you, but Mabella said you were away in India, or somewhere… Of course I said you couldn't be in India, because I researched it and your company doesn't trade with India, there's some sort of embargo there, or something – but anyways, what's it like, being a sailor?" She stared at him avidly, and James, startled out of his thoughts, opened his mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again.

"I think you scared him, my dear." commented Judd lightly. Allie swatted playfully at his head before turning back and linking James' arm in her own.

"Ignore him," she whispered in James' ear, shooting a very exaggerated glare at Judd. "He's just jealous he hasn't sea legs."

James, feeling very overwhelmed and not in the least sure of what Allie was talking about, just smiled weakly. Allie continued chattering, until finally the threesome reached the living room. Then, disentangling her arm from James', she cleared her throat loudly and stepped awkwardly forward.

"We're here!" she announced loudly, grabbing first Judd, then James and dragging them forward. "We're here, and – now, where's Mr. Ham got himself to?" She sighed good-naturedly and shuffled into the kitchen, where mingled voices could be heard over the crashing of the rain. Judd exchanged a look with James.

"Quite a handful, isn't she?" he asked, sounding rather proud. James nodded mutely and sank into the nearest seat, a yellow flowered armchair. Judd followed suit, dropping into the plaid chair next to James.

"Have you ever felt," asked James slowly, staring fixedly at the rain drumming against the window opposite him, "Like, like you were…like you were really, really lost?"

Judd frowned, leaning over and surreptitiously cracking open the window next to him. "Have I ever felt lost? Well, yeah, I suppose I have…like when I was asking Allie to marry me, and when –"

"No, not like that…," interrupted James, shaking his head. "More, more like – almost like you don't know who you are anymore, like so much has happened that you don't even realize it's happened, like, like…" He stumbled and fell silent. "Forget it." he said shortly.

"Alright…" said Judd slowly, looking sideways at James. "Although, you know, I do think I know what you mean."

James shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I don't think anybody can know what I mean." he said moodily.

"But I think I do." insisted Judd, fidgeting in his seat and spreading his hands expressively. "No really, listen – it's like this. It's like you're walking, walking in…clouds, say. And the sky's so near you could almost touch it, and there are birds zipping past your head, because you're walking in the clouds, right? Except then you look down, and **_bang_**, it hits you – there's the ground, and here you are, with the clouds, and, and it's just like…almost like _wow_."

James looked over at Judd with new respect. Judd shifted uncomfortably.

"It's just…that's how I felt, when Allie said yes. Because I loved her, you see, and I was so afraid she'd say no and then poof, she's gone forever…" he said, a little hesitantly.

"And what if…what if she did say no?" asked James thoughtfully, his brow creasing. "What happens to the clouds then?"

Judd gave a rather hasty, relieved laugh. "Then the clouds disappear, mate." He stood up and clapped James on the shoulder. "And you learn how to grow wings. Come on, it sounds like they've finished dinner." James smiled – his first true smile in almost six years.

Standing up, he started to follow Judd into the next room when a streak of gray darted past the corner of his eye.

He whirled around, hazel eyes growing wide as they scanned the room. Judd had stopped at the doorway, looking back at him curiously. "Are you alright?"

James hesitated, and then turned back toward Judd, still looking over his shoulder as he walked slowly toward the kitchen. "I just thought I saw…never mind." Judd opened his mouth to say something, but before he could James said, more harshly than he had intended to, "_Never mind_." Seeing Judd's shocked look, James softened his voice and added quietly, "It's nothing, really. I just thought I saw…an old friend." Giving Judd a small, hopefully reassuring smile, James gave one last backward glance over his shoulder before walking through the doorway and into the kitchen.

**ooooo**

Peter whimpered, stumbling through the rain and heaving dry, gasping sobs. He clutched his gray, fraying cloak more tightly around himself, nearly tripping over a protruding root as he staggered to the bottom of the low hill and fell into a bow before the cloaked, hooded figures standing in a silent semi-circle around him.

"H-he is there, M-master…" he choked, his hands shaking uncontrollably as they grasped spasmodically at the mud around him. "J-James Potter…"

The figure standing in the center of the semi-circle lowered its hood. Crimson, cat-like eyes burning in the center of his skull-white face, Lord Voldemort smiled.

"You are sure, Wormtail?"

Peter nodded, his forehead squelching in the thick brown mud oozing slowly around him. How could he not be sure? "Y-yes, Master…" he mumbled, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Thick, heavy rain was beating against his back, soaking through his robes and numbing him slowly.

Yes, he had seen James. And he had been so tempted, for one wonderful moment, to go back into the house, to warn James and to bring him back to Hogwarts, back to Remus and Sirius, and then they would forgive him, and they would be the Marauders again… But then he had hurried back through the rain, back to Voldemort. There was no going back; not now, not ever.

"The-There are o-others." he whispered, forcing himself to continue. "J-James, and five others – and, and the m-muggle, the one y-you spoke of ea-earlier…"

Voldemort smiled thinly at Peter. "Very good, Wormtail. You may go." Peter staggered to his feet, his eyes still downcast, staring at the mud which was rising slowly through the soles of his shoes.

"Y-yes, master." It was too late to go back now. There was a loud crack, unheard over another echoing clap of thunder, and Peter disappeared.

"Gentlemen," said Voldemort, his red eyes glittering as he turned around to face the small half circle of Death Eaters around him, "As I suspected, James Potter has returned." A low muttering traveled among the Death Eaters, silenced when Voldemort spread his arms and stared at them coldly. "James Potter is _mine_."

Even had they wanted to none of his followers would have contradicted him. Voldemort raised his arms slightly, a cold smile playing across his face. "The rest you may kill." The four Death Eaters broke into excited muttering again – then one stepped forward, dropping gracefully to one knee and lowering his hood.

Lucius Malfoy bowed his head, his pale blonde hair falling around his face and his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the ground near Voldemort's feet. "And what of the muggle, my lord? The one who informed you of Potter's whereabouts?"

"The rest," repeated Voldemort, turning away from Lucius and leading the Death Eaters as they began to slowly ascend the hill, "You may kill. But Potter…_Potter is **mine**_."

**ooooo**

"As always, Mabella my dear," sighed Judd, pushing his chair away from the table and tipping it back on two legs, "Dinner was de-licious."

"I'm glad ye enjoyed it, Mister O'Conner." said Mrs. Boyle, tottering in from the kitchen with a massive pie held between her hands. A rich odor of ginger and rum wafted after her, and Judd let his chair fall back to the ground, staring at the enormous, golden-brown tart hungrily.

"Not to mean, of course," he added, as she set the dish down on the table and Tom stood up to cut it, "That I'm not always up for more."

Allie rolled her eyes and stood up. "I think I'll have to pass this time, Mabella – I'm feeling a bit queasy, so if you'll excuse me…" She edged awkwardly around the table and through the dining room, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door with a snap.

"Well, we certainly wouldn't want to burden you poor folks with extras…" Judd took Allie's slice of pie, holding it up to his face and breathing in deeply. He grinned broadly and, not bothering to wait for anyone else to be served, promptly fell to stuffing his face.

James poked idly at his own slice of dessert, more content to listen to the rain drumming against the windows outside than to eat. By this time tomorrow he would be back, back at Hogwarts, back with Albus Dumbledore… For a moment he felt a fluttering of panic –_ what if Hogwarts has fallen? What if Dumbledore is dead? What then? _– but then he pushed those thoughts back, out of his mind. Hogwarts had faced worse things than Voldemort and hadn't fallen. And Dumbledore… He couldn't know for sure, of course, but a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind told him the old wizard was too stubborn to die now. He allowed himself a small smile, raising a small piece of pie to his mouth and chewing it pensively.

Yes. Tomorrow he would finally be going home.

"James, if ye could be a dear an' help me clean up in 'ere…" Startled out of his thoughts, James hastened to his feet and edged around Judd, Joe, and Tom's chairs, following Mrs. Boyle as she hobbled into the kitchen with a teetering stack of dishes held in her arthritic hands.

"I hope ye don't mind," she said, her light blue eyes twinkling merrily as she dumped the plates into a large iron tub nearly overflowing with hot, soapy water, "Bu', as ye may have noticed, I tol' Mister Judd an' Miss Allie that ye were my grandnephew, James Reynolds. Ye said ye din't want any sort of a'ttention aimed at ye, so I thought, 'Well, how's 'bout a diff'rent name then, eh?'"

James couldn't help but grin, pulling up the sleeves of his faded grey shirt and plunging his hands into the foaming water. It was pleasantly warm, and the knots in his hands faded slowly as he scrubbed vigorously at the dirtied plates. Lily used to love cleaning up after dinner the muggle way, and while he and Sirius and Remus and Peter would sit around the table and talk and laugh she would barricade herself in the kitchen, singing off key to the same old battered muggle records… _Don't think about Lily now, not yet, not until tomorrow… And then you can think about everything, but not yet; not yet…_

"So I'm a sailor now?" he asked, forcing his voice to be lighthearted. Mrs. Boyle chuckled wheezily.

"Aye."

They were silent for a few minutes, and the rain outside beat on with renewed intensity. Finally Mrs. Boyle stacked the last of the now-clean plates on the faded yellow countertop and dried her hands on her dress.

"Well, tha's done, so now we can – did ye hear that, Mister James?"

James looked up – Mrs. Boyle was standing with her head tilted to the side, staring curiously down the short hallway which led to the backdoor. "Did ye hear that?" she repeated, her high-pitched voice growing slightly shriller as she turned to look at James.

James frowned and shook his head slowly. "It's probably just the rain, Mrs. Boyle." _Unless it's…but no, it can't be **Him**, not when I'm about to go back, not now…_

She was shaking her head forcefully, her light blue eyes darting nervously between James and the back door. "I – I heard a creakin', like someone was a' the door…"

And then James heard it too – someone was banging on the door, only it was the front door, not the back… And then there was a high-pitched, cold laugh, a laugh he recognized…

_He's here, Voldemort's here; he's found me, he **knows**… Not again, please not again, I can't do this again, **I CAN'T!**_

"Mrs. Boyle, get down!" shouted James, knocking her to the floor and throwing himself down beside her. He curled up instinctively as the door in the other room blasted apart and a cold, angry, blue-green light briefly illuminated the entire house. He could hear Joe, Tom, and Judd shouting in the other room, and then he heard a scream…

"Are you in here, Mr. Potter?" said a cold, high voice – Voldemort. "Because I'd like to have a word, if you wouldn't mind…" There was a loud bang and a flash of bright purple light, and James, his mind reeling, staggered to his feet as Joe McMardling screamed.

"What…?" whispered James, stunned. He looked down – Mrs. Boyle was lying on the ground, perfectly still except for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. There was a harsh, guttural laugh, followed by a low rumbling as the floor beneath them began to shake. James slipped sideways, only just grabbing onto the countertop in time to keep from falling. _He can't be here, he can't be he can't be he can't be…not again, not ever again, nooooo this isn't happening it isn't it isn't it isn't… _

"Didn't you hear him, Potter?" drawled a cold, aristocratic voice – _Lucius Malfoy_, James' mind told him numbly. "Or shall I give you a little reminder? In case you've forgotten what the Dark Lord does when you keep him waiting..." One of the other Death Eaters gave a cruelly amused laugh, and James, still dazed, could only listen as Lucius Malfoy's icy, callous voice said softly, "Avada Kedavra."

James closed his eyes, brought up his hands to cover his ears, but he couldn't block out the flash of green light burning through his eyelids, or the Death Eaters' harsh laughter…

_This, this isn't happening, it's not, I can't…Harry and Lily…nooooo; this is wrong, he's gone, he's not here, he's not he's not he's not…_

"Did you hear that, Potter? Or shall I kill another, and another, until you come out? I could kill this one next, the fat bald one…or perhaps the –"

Malfoy broke off suddenly, swearing as the floor began to shake again. James, caught unawares, tried to grab hold of the countertop and missed. He fell to the floor as the ground beneath the house lurched suddenly forward – almost instinctively he ducked into a crouch, and as the house lurched forward again he rolled forward, out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

The ground beneath the house gave one final shudder and was still. His mind still in shock James looked up slowly, and found himself staring straight at the wand point of Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy smiled thinly.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter – how nice of you to drop by."

It felt as though time had fallen still. Malfoy's wand moved down slowly – so achingly slowly – and James, his mind going blank, reached back to his back pocket, groping for his wand – but his wand wasn't there. And then time sped up again, just as James threw himself to the side to dodge Malfoy's stunning spell. He pulled up in a crouch, Mad-Eye Moody's training once more coming to the front of his mind as he reached behind him, searching for a weapon, any kind of weapon…

His hand finally closed on something – a rusted old screwdriver, from the feel of it – and he seized it, holding it as though it were a dagger as he jumped to his feet and lunged towards Malfoy. Malfoy swore loudly again, forced to drop his wand as James, his eyes frenzied and his heart racing wildly, knocked him sideways against the table and swung the screwdriver down as hard as he could. Malfoy's hand shot out just in time, grappling with James' arm as James struggled to plunge the screwdriver into his chest.

"Damned…auror…" gasped Malfoy, his face growing red as the tip of the screwdriver brushed against his chest. Ignoring Judd, who had scrambled past them, sprinting towards the door leading into the living room – and, James realized distantly, to the bathroom, where Allie still was – Malfoy brought his foot down hard on James'. James recoiled and took an involuntarily step backwards; it was all the distraction Malfoy needed. Ducking down, he swiveled around James and drew another wand out of the holster concealed beneath the arm of his robes. "Drop it." he said icily, ignoring the laughing jeers of his three fellow Death Eaters. "Drop it or I will kill him." He gestured towards Joe, then stopped and took a harder look. Joe was slumped motionless against the table, and Malfoy's lip curled in a sneer. "Oh dear," he said softly, as James stared, horrified, at Joe's dead body. "He seems to already be dead, doesn't he?" The other Death Eaters laughed appreciatively, and Malfoy's smirk grew wider.

"Let them go." whispered James brokenly, the screwdriver falling from limp fingers and clattering to the floor. _I'm so sorry, so so sorry… _"Kill me, I don't care, but let them go…"

Malfoy turned a disparaging look at James, flicking his spare wand at his other wand, which was rolling slowly across the floor, and summoning it back to his hand. Sliding his spare wand back into the holster, he tucked a strand of silvery-blonde hair behind his ear and advanced slowly on James until they were barely a fingerbreadth apart. Reaching out, he ran a pale, finely manicured finger down the side of James' face, finally pushing James' chin up with the crook of his finger and forcing James to look at him. "Let them live, Mr. Potter?" he whispered contemptuously. "After all the trouble you've caused me?" His voice turned suddenly bitter, and James had the fleeting impression that he was talking of more than just his attack moments ago. "Oh no no no, Mr. Potter – I want you to suffer, you see. I'd kill your son or one of your useless friends, but, well…" His mouth curled into a smirk again, "They don't seem to be here, do they?"

His sneer widened when James didn't answer.

"Now now, Lucius – I'd hate to think you were tormenting Mr. Potter already."

James and Malfoy both stiffened – then Lucius turned around smartly, his head bowed as he dropped into a kneel before Lord Voldemort.

"Of course not, my lord."

"I'd hate to think you were." said Voldemort softly, completely ignoring James as he fixed his crimson eyes on Malfoy's kneeling form. "Because I believe I gave you explicit instructions that Potter was mine."

"Yes, master."

"Need I remind you of the price of disobedience, Lucius?"

"No, master. Of course not, master."

James' heart began to race. They weren't watching him now, he could leave, he could run – where to he didn't know, but anywhere but here, anywhere where they couldn't find him, where they wouldn't hurt anyone else… But then they would catch him again; he couldn't fight them, not unless…

He edged closer to Malfoy, bending down slightly and reaching surreptitiously forward. The very end of Malfoy's spare wand was poking out of his black satin robes, and James stretched as far as he dared. The tip of one finger brushed the end of the wand, and James leaned forward more, hoping desperately that Voldemort was still focused on Malfoy._ Almost…_

His fingers curled around the very tip of the wand.

"– remember it, Lucius." Malfoy suddenly dropped into an even lower bow, and Voldemort turned his eyes on James. _No no no **no NO…!**_

With reflexes honed by years of quidditch and sharpened with adrenaline James whipped the wand out of Malfoy's concealed arm holster, grabbing Malfoy in a stranglehold and sliding the wand into the arm of his shirt in one movement.

Malfoy blanched as James' arm wrapped itself suddenly around his neck. "Get off – me – Potter," he gasped, his already pale face going an alarming shade of white as James tightened his grip, cutting off Malfoy's air.

"Let them go." hissed James through clenched teeth, nodding his head towards where Tom – his eyes darting feverishly around the room as another Death Eater backed him into a corner – and Ham still stood. Mabella had hopefully woken up and run by now, and he had no idea where Judd was, but if he could get anyone out of this…_It's my fault they're here…_

Voldemort looked at him coolly, while Malfoy sputtered, clawing desperately at James' arm as he fought for air. "Kill him, then. If you can." said Voldemort indifferently, turning away. His lipless mouth curled into a smile as two other Death Eaters, both of them hooded and masked, dragged something back into the dining room with their wands. A moment later James involuntarily gasped, his chokehold on Malfoy tightening as he saw that they had whips of silvery-white fire snaking from their wand tips, whips which had lashed themselves around Judd's wrists.

Judd's mouth was open in a scream, but no words were coming out – one of the Death Eaters had cast a silencing charm on him. James' arm and shoulder throbbed in remembered pain as one of the Death Eaters – a huge hulking brute whose black robes were stretched skintight against him – jerked roughly upwards with his wand. "S'not working, m'lord." he grunted, staring in obvious dissatisfaction at Judd, whose eyes looked to be bulging out of his head as his back arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream. "'E doesn' look in pain, does 'e, m'lord?"

"Does he need more pain, do you think?" whispered a soft, silky voice, from behind the mask of the other Death Eater holding Judd with one of the whips. "We could make his filthy muggle heart burst in agony…" The Death Eater turned his sightless mask on James. "Or we could terrify this one before our dear little Lucius' heart bursts…" he added, in a smooth, amused murmur.

With a jolt James looked down. Malfoy had stopped struggling against him and his head had slumped forward, his breathing shallow and labored. James looked back up quickly, easing his chokehold on Malfoy very slightly as his own breath quickened. "Let them go!" he hissed, standing up and dragging Malfoy up with him. "Let them go _now_, or I'll let him die, I swear I will."

"Keep back!" snapped Voldemort sharply, as one of the Death Eaters started to move forward. Voldemort looked back at James. "You flatter yourself, Potter." he spat, drawing out his wand. He stared at it intently for a moment, then leveled it carefully at James. "You cannot kill him, we both know it." Voldemort stepped back, letting go of his wand. It stayed floating in the air exactly as he'd left it, surrounded by a fading blue aura. Voldemort eyed James disdainfully. "This is why you failed, Mr. Potter." he said quietly, speaking now only to James. "It is why I triumphed. You are too weak to kill a defenseless enemy, too weak to kill _any_ enemy."

"I could kill you." James hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Voldemort only laughed, his wand – still floating in the air on its own – turning in a slow corkscrew as it moved closer to James.

"Indeed? That is the difference between us, then. You would kill me out of hate – and I, Mr. Potter, am going to let you live, all out of hate. I do hate you, Mr. Potter. I loath you: I despise your mudblood family, your mudblood friends… But most of all I hate you. And so I will let you live. Call it retribution." The wand suddenly turned sharply, pointing over James' shoulder at the doorway leading into the kitchen.

"Fair is fair, Mr. Potter. A life for a life. And since your son, _Harry_," – he spat out the word as though it were something filthy – "Is not here, and I do not want to kill you yet, I must have someone _else's_ life. It's all very simple, very logical, very fair. And now…" His eyes narrowed and his face clenched: his wand spun crazily in the air for a moment, then straightened and was absolutely still. "…And now, Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to let go of Lucius –" James' arms snapped to his side, Malfoy's spare wand (still hidden in James' left sleeve) sliding slickly down his arm and nearly falling out. Malfoy slumped to the floor, his face chalk white and his breath coming in wheezing gasps. His eyes were narrowed slits, but he made no attempt to move or to reclaim his other wand, which had rolled to a stop at James' feet. "–We can attend to more pressing matters."

"Ah, my head…Mister James? Are ye in here? I could hear voices, an' I was thinkin', what a pity we've done an' put all the dishes away now, eh?"

James whipped around, and for the second time that night time seemed to fall still. Mrs. Boyle was hobbling out of the kitchen, an enormous purple bruise blossoming on the side of her head. She had a shaky, nervous smile on, a smile which quickly changed to a look of horror as she caught sight of Joe, slumped against the table; Malfoy, who was lying prone on the floor, still gasping for breath; and finally on Judd. "What…" she began.

"Mabella, _run!_" shouted Tom suddenly, knocking the Death Eater in front of him out of the way as he launched himself towards Mrs. Boyle. "**_RUN!_**" Tom tripped suddenly over Joe's chair, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. He pulled himself up, grimacing and clenching his teeth, and looked back over at his wife.

Mrs. Boyle turned around slowly to look at Tom. "What…" she began again, backing up slowly – almost painfully – as she turned her gaze on James. "Mister James? What's it's goin' –"

She never had a chance to finish her sentence. Voldemort, his eyes narrowing once more, cut the air in front of him sharply with his hand. As if on cue his wand shot forward, straight at Mrs. Boyle.

She stumbled and fell backwards, staring with astonished pale blue eyes at the still gently revolving wand which was sticking halfway out of her chest. "Oh my…," she murmured, brushing one gnarled hand lightly over her wound. It came away crimson with blood. "Oh…goodness…" She stuttered for a moment, her voice failing as crimson blood trailed slowly from her wrinkled, age-pursed lips. She shuddered, her eyes locking with James' one final time – then her head lolled back and her hands fell limply to her side.

She was dead.

"**_NOOOO!_**" screamed Tom, throwing himself forward and knocking the astonished Death Eater in front of him out of the way. "**_No, no no NOOO!_**"

"A life for a life, Potter." said Voldemort calmly, his scarlet eyes emotionless as he waved his hand vaguely before him. His wand stopped revolving and rose slowly out of Mrs. Boyle's chest, shining a sickly red in the light of the whips still encircling Judd's wrists. "We're equal." Voldemort's wand shot suddenly towards him, and he caught it in midair, wiping it conscientiously on the tablecloth.

James couldn't look at him, couldn't look at anything except for Mrs. Boyle, lying dead on the floor as a pool of her own blood formed slowly around her. He could feel two massive, calloused hands grab his wrists and thrust his arms behind him, but only as through a daze. His eyes were still locked on Mrs. Boyle, the spectacle before him burning into the back of his mind. Tears – of disbelief, of grief, of fury – were slipping unbidden down his cheeks, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head mutely even as Tom continued to scream. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget those screams, or the image of Mrs. Boyle's shocked, dead face that was now burning against the back of his eyes.

"What shall you have us do with the others, my lord?" came a soft purr, the voice of one of the Death Eaters that had been torturing Judd. "This one," – He kicked Judd, who instinctively curled up and cried out silently – "And the old one, and our…informant?"

James' eyes snapped open, and he wrenched himself away from the brutish Death Eater holding him enough to turn and stare at Ham.

_Informant_.

Ham had betrayed them.

Rage filled James, rage such as he had rarely known before. Perhaps it was his own guilt, his own realization that if it weren't for him none of this would have happened, but right then James wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and tear Ham's throat out. "You bastard," he hissed, trying to break himself free of the Death Eater's merciless grip and leap towards Ham. "You _bastard_… Did it feel good, killing them? Did you _enjoy _watching her die?_ They were your neighbors;_ **_they were your friends!_**" His voice had risen to a scream. "**_You_** **_betrayed them – YOU KILLED THEM!_**"

But Ham wasn't paying attention to him – his one-eyed gaze was focused only on Mrs. Boyle, and on Tom, who had clutched her to himself and buried his head in her sticky, blood-coated white hair. "Din't mean ta kill her." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He slid slowly down the wall he had propped himself up against, sinking down to a seat on the almost overturned bench. "Warn't s'posed ta kill her…" He seemed oddly deflated, somehow – all of the malice, all of the drive behind Ham's one dark gray eye had vanished, leaving only a tired old man in its place. "Warn't s'posed ta happen like this."

And suddenly James' own anger began to drain out of him, however hard he scrambled to hold onto it. Ham had suddenly reminded of himself, nearly six years ago, and James felt a sudden flash of horrified pity.

Ham had betrayed them. But if Tom were right then Ham had also loved Mrs. Boyle – just as James had loved Lily and Harry, and just as he'd failed them. He couldn't hate Ham any more, not even though Ham had almost certainly intended for him to be dead at Voldemort's hand. He couldn't hate Ham any more then he could truly, honestly hate himself.

Voldemort considered Ham, Tom, and Judd for a moment. At last he turned to the small, slim Death Eater, who was standing upright and pulling on a pair of black satin gloves with obvious relish. "Kill them or leave them, as you please." he said dismissively, as though their fates were beneath his attention. "But if you wish to kill them do so quickly – we leave before Dumbledore has any chance of finding out of our attack here and arriving." He turned his gaze towards Malfoy, who was just now getting to his feet and staggering towards them. "Lucius!" Voldemort barked sharply. Malfoy glanced up, trying unsuccessfully to focus on his master. Voldemort gestured with one long fingered hand towards Ham, who was still sitting on the overturned bench, his hair falling around him like a lank white curtain as he buried his head in his hands. "Kill him." he said simply. Malfoy tried to bow and nearly fell over – one of the other Death Eaters, the one who had been guarding Tom, hurried over and yanked him to his feet.

The Death Eater holding James' arms behind his back gave a deep, animal-like cry and ran straight towards what remained of the front door, throwing his shoulder against it and breaking down much of the doorway as well as what was left of the door. James stumbled after him, taunts and jeering laughter ringing in his ears as he craned his neck over his shoulder, hoping desperately that the Death Eaters would show some sort of mercy, that they'd spare Tom and Judd. He could see Malfoy, stepping away from the other Death Eater as he pointed his wand at Ham and muttered under his breath. A jet of brilliant emerald green light shot out of his wand, and Ham crumpled forward, his head falling to the table next to Joe's. Malfoy crumpled down too, his Death Eater friend grabbing his arm and half dragging, half carrying him out of the house.

"Retribution, Potter." said Voldemort softly, falling into step next to James. The storm continued to rage overhead, and James closed his eyes against a ceaseless torrent of rain. There was a deafening BOOM of thunder, followed by a whip of lightening, but over it all James could hear Voldemort's soft, high-pitched laughter in his ear. "And it has only just begun." Voldemort continued, pressing two long, thin fingers to James' throat. James swallowed and tried to pull away from him, but the Death Eater holding him only tightened his grip, cutting off circulation to James' hands and holding him in place. Voldemort laughed, his fingers trailing upwards until they were pressed against James' temple. "Soon – very, very soon, Mr. Potter – I _will_ make you fear me."

Voldemort stopped walking, allowing James and his escorting Death Eater to move ahead of him. James just squeezed his eyes shut, his tears mingling with the rain as he tried to force the vision of accusing, lifeless blue eyes out of his mind.

**ooooo**

Voldemort drew his wand, ignoring the rest of his Death Eaters as they stumbled from what remained of the Boyle's house. Someone – Abaddon Jugson, most likely – had lit fire to the building, and a few bright orange flames leapt up and then flickered, falling back against the icy gray curtains of rain. Voldemort allowed a slow, cruel smile to twist across his face. He had captured Potter – not the boy yet, it was true, but it was only a matter of time.

But first he had to send Dumbledore a message. Through his old network of spies at the Ministry – a network Lucius had somehow managed to keep alive, even in his six years absence – he knew the Ministry would not take action against him, not until they had more definitive proof than a burned building, dead muggles, and the sigil of a long-vanished dark lord.

"Morsmordre." he whispered softly, pointing his wand at the sky. He watched with an expression that could only be described as loving as an enormous green skull, a serpent protruding from its mouth, burst from his wand and soared to hover over the ruins of the Boyle's house.

The Ministry would blame it on an errant Death Eater who had somehow escaped imprisonment in Azkaban, or a sick joke by wizards who had happened to stumble across the smoldering remains of the house. But Dumbledore would get the message.

Before Dumbledore could do anything to stop him, however, his newest weapon would be ready. He would break James Potter, twist him until he was no longer recognizable as the brave young auror he had once been. He would become one of his most powerful Death Eaters, as devoted as Bellatrix Lestrange and as intelligent and powerful as Lucius Malfoy.

Voldemort smiled. He would break James Potter, heart and soul.

He could hardly wait to begin.

* * *

**A/N** - Poor James...That was rather an evil cliffie, wasn't it? Sorry... I know this chapter was very dark and very long, but it had to happen. Many apologies to all of you folks who were starting to like the Boyles, Joe, and Ham...they're well out of it now. 

Thank you so much all for reading, and remember - the more reviews, the faster I write. The faster I write, the quicker the updates.

Next update – _A Cup of Tea_. In which Remus reconsiders, Mrs. Pettigrew saunters into the picture, and we meet a goat with a theme song.

Till then - ta!


	7. A Cup of Tea

**A/N** - Finally, an update which is a bit early! This chapter is on the shorter side, but the next one is pretty big so it all evens out.

There's an important a/n at the end of the chapter. Please, please read it - and, as always, I hope you enjoy!

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 7 – A Cup of Tea_

_July 12, 1987_

Remus Lupin sprinted up the concrete walkway leading to the small, neatly rundown bungalow, panting as he leapt over the low step that served as a porch and grabbing onto the ugly, rusting black metal banister as he skidded to a stop. He didn't have to glance at his watch to know he was at least twenty minutes late – brushing his light brown hair hurriedly with his free hand, he straightened his shirt and walked purposefully over to the peeling white door, knocking loudly and bending down slightly so that his face was visible through the mail slot.

Much to the annoyance of her muggle neighbors and the local postman, Mrs. Prudence Pettigrew had installed the mail slot exactly five feet off the front step. The postman, an irritable fellow named Malton Smithy, stood no higher than four and a half feet tall and had to jump to push any mail through the slit. When he had approached Mrs. Pettigrew and stated, in as kind a way as possible, that he was sure she really would like to move the mail slot down to a more manageable level and that then everybody – himself, Mrs. Pettigrew, and the local village government – would be much happier, Mrs. Pettigrew had responded by throwing a brick at his head. He had never attempted to deliver mail (junk mail, the only type of muggle mail she ever received) to her again.

This suited Mrs. Pettigrew perfectly well, as the only reason she had installed the slot in the first place was because it seemed a rather convenient way to identify visitors and, if necessary, chase them away with a fire poker.

The bronze door opened with a snap, and two small, beady, light blue eyes peered suspiciously at Remus through the inch high crack. "Who's there?" she snapped irritably.

"It's me." said Remus, running his hand through his light brown hair again.

"And who would 'me' be being?"

"Remus. Remus Lupin."

"Oh. You." She regarded him beadily for a moment. "You're late." she grunted at last.

Remus cursed under his breath. "Yes, I know." he said aloud. Then, as an afterthought he added, "Sorry."

"Oh, not as sorry as you'll soon be being, I think."

Remus swore silently again. It wasn't that he didn't like Mrs. Pettigrew – he did, immensely – but sometimes she…tested his patience, is how he would diplomatically put it. And while normally his patience, legendary while he had been at Hogwarts, could outlast her, today he was not in the mood.

"I was held up." he said, reaching down and plucking the head off one of the flowers in the bouquet he had brought. He pushed it into the mail slot and flicked it towards her. "I brought you flowers."

Her small, plump fingers grabbed the flower and pulled it out. After a moment her eyes reappeared.

"Weeds." she said, an appreciative edge now entering her voice. "You're learning, boy. Little Willy and Lumps will be pleased."

"Yes, I'm sure they will." muttered Remus under his breath, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Little Willy and Lumps were Mrs. Pettigrew's pet goats. His voice grew louder. "Can I come in now, Mrs. Pettigrew? There's something I have to talk to you about." He heard an incredulous snort, followed by some disconsolate mumbling – a moment later the door swung open, and Mrs. Pettigrew hopped down from her small stool and glowered up at him.

Although they had the same watery blue eyes, small pointed nose, and short stature, Mrs. Pettigrew and her only son, Peter, were as completely opposite as it was possible to be. While Peter had been shy and, despite his placement in Gryffindor, somewhat of a coward, Mrs. Pettigrew resembled nothing so much as a walking, blustering war engine.

Her thin, steel gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she had recently taken to wearing an olive green beret atop it. Her face was wide, and might have been somewhat homely if it weren't for the Magic or Busttattoo stamped across her left cheek. Remus suspected that it was this tattoo which had first endeared Mrs. Pettigrew to Sirius and James, although after a bit of questioning she had confided to Remus that it was just a temporary she reapplied every other day, the result of a lifetime supply she had won when she was twelve. Remus had never inquired as to what contest it was, exactly, she had entered.

Although she was exceptionally short – at least half a foot shorter than Peter, at 5'3", had been – she had the carriage of a seasoned and battle-hardened general. She had on a long, olive-green khaki skirt – one of her few concessions to feminism – as well as a white rumpled sweater, (the entire front of which was covered in cigar ash), and, over it all, a black leather trench coat. She had had the coat for as long as Remus could remember, and he couldn't recall ever seeing her without it. Sirius used to covet it – Peter had been rather embarrassed by it.

"I was sleeping, you know." she said irritably, tapping one booted toe against the concrete stoop. "I fell asleep waiting for you."

"Sorry." said Remus again, sitting down in one of the old plastic chairs on the porch and tossing the bouquet into the side yard, where he knew Little Willy and Lumps would find it. The one and only time he had tried to actually bring flowers for Mrs. Pettigrew herself she had ripped them to shreds, snapping at his audacity to bring her "those damn girly ragweeds", and tossed what remained of them to her goats. "I got a bit sidetracked."

"Oh, that's easy for _you_ to say." said Mrs. Pettigrew darkly, sinking into the other lawn chair and pulling a purple cigar stub out of one of the trench coat's pockets. She snapped her fingers and the tip burst into flame – taking a long draw, she settled back in her chair and exhaled slowly. A thick cloud of noxious green smoke hovered around her head, nearly blocking the beret from sight. "I was going to go to town today, you know." she continued at last, squinting through the cloud of smoke at Remus, who was waving his hand to ward off the smoke and coughing politely. "Little Willy was going to the dentist."

Remus paused for a moment. "You mean the, the…" He hesitated for a moment. "The veterinarian?"

She was already shaking her head. "The dentist." she growled, pulling the cigar out of her mouth long enough to spit over the side of the small concrete porch. "He's got a funny tooth. From eating the roses you brought him last month."

"Oh. Er…" Remus could almost feel Mrs. Pettigrew's eyes boring into his head. "Sorry?" he ventured. She grunted.

The two of them sat in silence for at least ten minutes, watching as the sky faded from a rosy red to a soft, dusky purple. At last Mrs. Pettigrew pulled the cigar stub out of her mouth, tossing it to the ground and grinding it into nothing with her boot heel. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked grudgingly, as though just now remembering her duties as hostess.

"That would be wonderful, thanks." said Remus, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a yawn. She stood up, scowling, and stomped back into the house.

Remus sighed tiredly, leaning his head back against the top of the chair and closing his eyes. He had thought about what Dumbledore had said to him two months ago today, had thought about it constantly, and he still didn't know what to do. Because, while he _knew_ that he could do this, part of him kept screaming at him that he couldn't, that he _shouldn't_.

He was afraid. He was afraid to see his best friend's son – his _dead_ best friend's son.

And so, not knowing who else to ask, he had turned to Mrs. Pettigrew for advice. She and Mrs. Potter, James' mother, had become aunts-of-sorts to him while he had still been at Hogwarts – and, now that his own parents and James' parents were dead, she had been the only one he could think of to go to for advice.

A moment later Mrs. Pettigrew reappeared, trudging back onto the stoop with a tarnished silver tea kettle and two plastic cups held in her small, plump hands. "Why did you come, then?" she asked brusquely, putting the kettle on the ground between them after pouring herself and Remus a cup. "I don't suppose you came just to say hello to the boys." Remus assumed she was talking about the goats.

Remus smiled faintly, scooting his chair around so that he was face to face with Mrs. Pettigrew. "I need your advice." he said without preamble, leaning forward slightly so that his elbows were resting on his knees.

She looked at him, not bothering to hide her incredulity. "My advice, eh? That desperate?"

Remus ignored her. "Two months ago I went to Hogwarts." he began, taking a sip of tea as he locked eyes with Mrs. Pettigrew. "Dumbledore asked me for a favor. We talked for a bit, about…" He paused for a moment, hesitating. "…Things." he finished lamely.

Mrs. Pettigrew narrowed her eyes at him. "Ah. Things that aren't important for me to be knowing, eh? If you want advice, boy, you'd better tell me this whole banged-up story."

Remus stared at her for a moment – then he relented, shrugging. "We talked about a problem." he said, taking another sip of tea and looking at something over Mrs. Pettigrew's shoulder. "We talked about Voldemort." He heard Mrs. Pettigrew's sharp intake of breath but continued determinably on anyways. "We talked about how he's come back."

"'He's come back?'" repeated Mrs. Pettigrew hoarsely, all her gruffness disappearing as she stared wide-eyed at Remus. "That, that – _bastard_ – has come back?" Remus turned back to look at her, and was slightly alarmed to realize she was trembling. "When? How?"

"About two months and two weeks ago." continued Remus, standing up and moving over to refill Mrs. Pettigrew's cup for her. "He used an old potion. I'm not exactly certain how it works, but somehow it –" Remus caught sight of Mrs. Pettigrew's expression and stopped. "Basically it raises whoever drinks it from the dead." he finished, sitting back in his chair. "It's somewhat complicated." he added, as she opened her mouth to say something. "But he's back, Mrs. Pettigrew." Remus' throat tightened suddenly. "He's back." he finished in a murmur, resting his head in his hands.

There was silence for a few moments. "That's what you came to tell me, is it?" said Mrs. Pettigrew at last, with obvious effort. Remus shook himself out of his reverie.

"No." he said hurriedly, readjusting himself in his seat and looking up at Mrs. Pettigrew again. "That's not all Dumbledore and I talked about. He also asked me to do something for him."

"Oh, well, that's easy enough." interrupted Mrs. Pettigrew, her voice still shaky but fast returning to its previous gruffness. "Dumbledore wouldn't ask you for anything if it weren't important."

"It is important." Remus pressed on, determined to get to the point quickly. "But I already told him no. Because part of me knows I can't do what he's asked me to, but now part of me thinks I can. And I don't know what to do."

"Ach, it's like I said before." Mrs. Pettigrew said dismissively, taking another long slurp of tea. "Dumbledore's a batty old fool, right enough, but for some reason or other he likes you. Wouldn't ever ask you to do anything you couldn't."

"He asked me to guard Harry." said Remus softly, staring despondently at his small white plastic cup of tea. Mrs. Pettigrew eyed him beadily.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes." whispered Remus, suddenly feeling rather miserable and trying hard not to let his voice show it.

"And what is so difficult about that, may I ask?" asked Mrs. Pettigrew roughly. Remus looked up to stare at her. "_Well?_" she growled, when he didn't answer. "I don't see anything a big bad Gryffindor like yourself couldn't handle. He's five, right?"

"Six." corrected Remus. "Nearly seven."

"Yes, yes. He's a little shrimp. And you're a – what was it you boys called yourselves? – a Marauder. You boys battled Voldemort himself, if all the things Peter told me were true." Her eyes sharpened as Remus opened his mouth in denial. "Oh, stop it. You know you can do this, you stubborn, block-headed prat, and I'm not up for arguing about every bloody reason why you can't."

"I can't do it because I'm afraid." said Remus quietly, swilling the dregs of his tea around slowly as he looked up at her. "I'm afraid of seeing Harry again."

Whatever Mrs. Pettigrew had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. She stared at him for a moment, completely thunderstruck – then she jumped to her feet, her watery eyes gleaming crazily as, trench coat and skirt flying, she swiveled around to face Remus.

"You – are – afraid!" she bellowed, a few strands of gray hair flying from her strict bun. "Of – a – little – **_shrimp!_**"

"Not like that!" said Remus defensively, trying to hold his breath as the lingering smell of noxious cigar fumes wafted towards him from Mrs. Pettigrew, who was barely a foot away. "It's just – I haven't seen him since he was a baby, and he looked so much like James then, that now…," His voice trailed off, but Mrs. Pettigrew was still glaring at him ominously. "I lost just about everything when Voldemort killed James and Lily." he continued, more quietly now. "And I don't know how Harry fits into that yet."

Mrs. Pettigrew's forehead creased in an angry frown. "You blame the _kid_ for what happened?"

"No!" said Remus quickly, shaking his head vehemently. "That's not what I meant…what I meant was…" He struggled to finish, then gave up with a sigh. "I don't even know what I mean." he finished gloomily.

Mrs. Pettigrew snorted again, not bothering to move back to her chair and just plopping down right on the concrete porch. "Ach, you're nothing but a grown-up Gryffindor sissy." she said firmly, swatting with all the force of a small sledgehammer at a bug that had landed on her arm. "You are acting more like a damn Slytherin than a Gryffindor – look at my Peter. He was a right old coward, I don't mind saying, but look at how he died! Went and got himself blown up, out of friendship." She paused a moment, considering how she'd worded this. "Something like that, anyway." she grunted, shrugging. "The point is, you shouldn't ever be afraid to do something for your friends. Even the dead ones."

"Dumbledore's alive." said Remus after a moment, feeling inclined to point this out. Mrs. Pettigrew looked up at him, nonplussed.

"Too insane to be dead." she grumbled under her breath, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "But I wasn't talking about that old fool. I meant James and Lily."

Remus nodded. "You're right." he said, after a moment. He looked up, past the plastic green and white overhang that covered the stoop, to the silvery, nearly-full moon overhead. He sighed. "You're right."

_July 15, 1987_

The midday sun glinted off the azure blue lake, small whitecaps forming on the waves as a crisp breeze blew past the castle and the forest and whipped Remus Lupin's patched and fraying cloak out behind him.

Squinting against the sun, Remus turned to look at Professor Dumbledore, who was standing with his hands clasped behind his back and staring pensively out across the lake.

"You have heard of Voldemort's attack on the muggle house by now, I presume?" said Dumbledore finally, turning slightly to look his former student in the eye. Remus hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"The one the Ministry blamed on pranksters."

Dumbledore nodded, then sighed. The headmaster looked more tired than Remus had seen him in years – there were dark circles under his light blue eyes, which were devoid of their customary twinkle. "Minister Fudge does not believe Voldemort has returned, and until there is more definitive proof that he is back the Ministry will continue to blame the attacks on errant troublemakers." said Dumbledore quietly. "The only proof we have that he is back, besides the appearance of the Dark Mark, is Severus' word. And we cannot give the Minister that without betraying Severus to Voldemort."

"Then what do we do?" asked Remus, his hands in his pockets as he looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head and turned fully to look at him. "There is very little we can do." he said softly. "The public will remain unaware of Voldemort's return until the Ministry officially recognizes it, and they will not do that until we can offer them more solid, definitive proof. In the meantime Voldemort will continue to grow in power, recruiting followers and returning to his former strength." Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "There is only so much I, and the Order, can do."

Dumbledore took a few steps forward, than settled himself carefully down on the grass at the edge of the lake. Remus followed suit. "I have recalled most of the Order, but we are not nearly large enough to counter Voldemort standing on our own." Dumbledore continued. "We are only half the size we were in the last war, and without any contacts in the Ministry I have been unable to recruit new members. There are no aurors in the Order any longer, save Alastor Moody." Dumbledore sighed and managed a grim smile. "Minister Fudge is currently pressing for his forced retirement at the end of this year."

"Mad-Eye, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Hagrid, Sturgis Podmore, Severus, Elphias Doge, your brother, Emmeline Vance, and me." said Remus, ticking the listed Order members off on his fingers. "And you, of course…"

"Minerva McGonagall." added Dumbledore quietly. Remus frowned for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright. That makes…twelve."

"Yes." said Dumbledore heavily. "And without the Ministry's support we will be slaughtered, as we were last time."

"And no aurors…" murmured Remus, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I wish…" He fell silent. "I wish James and Sirius were here." he whispered at last, somewhat surprised to find there were tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back hurriedly. "Sirius like he used to be, I mean…"

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "But they are not." he said firmly, getting to his feet and helping Remus up after him. "And I am afraid, my friend, that we are on our own."

He placed one hand comfortingly on Remus' shoulder. "You said you had something to tell me?" Dumbledore asked after a while, drawing his hand back and shifting slightly to look more closely at Remus. Remus nodded, pulling his cloak more tightly against himself.

"I…I've been thinking about what you said to me, two months ago." he began hesitantly. "About guarding Harry. And I thought maybe I was wrong, when I said earlier that I couldn't watch him. I've been thinking…maybe I can. If you still want me to." he added hurriedly, as Dumbledore continued to stare at him thoughtfully. "I assumed you still would, but –" He broke off as Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him.

Dumbledore was smiling slightly again, a bit of his former twinkle returning to his eyes as he surveyed his former student. "Harry's birthday is almost two weeks from now." he said musingly, turning around and beginning the long walk back to the castle. Remus hurried behind him. "I think a visit from his Uncle Moony would be a fitting present, hmm?"

Remus looked up at Dumbledore, startled that the headmaster had known Harry's old name for him. "Yes," continued Dumbledore musingly, his light blue eyes twinkling brightly now. "A fitting present indeed."

* * *

**A/N** - Major kudos to anyone who knows the song Little Willy is named after. 

So...I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, it was a bit more light-hearted than the last one. Any and all comments are, of course, much appreciated. To that note...

I noticed that I am getting LOADS of hits, and even loads of people adding me to their favorite's/alert lists who don't review. Guys, I won't bite your heads off - all feedback, positive and negative, is very much appreciated. To prove the point - if I get more than ten reviews I'll give an early update, one day early for each extra review I get. 11 reviews equals a 1 day earlier update, 12 reviews equals a 2 day earlier update, etc.

Review mongering? Maybe. Proving the point? I sincerely hope so.

Next update - _The Prisoner_. In which the Death Eaters plot and plan, Lucius and Severus have a little chat, and James finds out that Harry is back and is faced with the most heart-wrenching decision of his life. Also featuring a random mad Death Eater, free of charge. Coming soon.


	8. The Prisoner

**A/N** - Wow - tons of reviews. Thanks you guys - I know this update is a bit earlier than I said it would be, but you deserve it.

**The Track of a Storm**

by Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 8 – The Prisoner_

_July 21, 1987_

"As you can see, my lord, the Manor is already heavily fortified." said Lucius smoothly, running one long, finely manicured finger along the blueprints of the mansion. The ink drawings on the parchment shimmered accordingly, and a moment later realigned themselves to show a bird's eye view of the house. "It will soon be unplottable, and various defenses – traps and barriers, mostly – are set up along the grounds. They are all undetectable." He tapped his finger against the far left edge of the parchment map. A small forest shimmered to life above the parchment, rotating slowly counterclockwise. "There are several monsters in the forest, all of which are only subservient to a Malfoy. Also in the forest are exits from the underground tunnels beneath the Manor, and a portkey leading to another of our houses – the Shiant House – which can be immediately and discreetly activated should the need arise."

Lucius looked up, towards where Voldemort was reclining in the seat at the head of the table. "The house is almost impregnable from the outside, master." Voldemort nodded – he looked, if anything, rather bored.

"And?" he prompted, turning his crimson eyes from Lucius and lazily scanning the rest of his assembled Death Eaters.

"I see no need to waste time fortifying the outer defenses any more, my lord. From what we know of Dumbledore –" Lucius gave Severus Snape a small nod, "– it seems unlikely that he would unnecessarily waste lives for a frontal attack he could not hope to win."

"Certainly there are other reasons besides an attack that would prompt our dear Professor Dumbledore to walk in the front door." murmured another Death Eater, one of his silk gloved hands gently stroking the piece of parchment while the other tapped his lip thoughtfully. "If he discovers our prisoner, for instance…" Severus was already shaking his head.

"Dumbledore is weak. Without support from the Ministry there is very little he can do – he would not risk losing the little support he does have for the sake of one person." said Severus, choosing his words carefully. Per Voldemort's orders James' capture over two months ago was being kept a secret, even from Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters. All Severus had been able to glean was that someone important had been taken prisoner during the attack on the muggle house two months ago – the only ones who knew James Potter to be the prisoner were those who had been involved in the attack. "Until the Ministry recognizes that you are returned, my lord, they will not back Albus Dumbledore. And until he receives their backing he will not dare to take any overt action against you."

"How can you be so certain, my dear Severus?" purred Abaddon Jugson, the Death Eater with the silk gloves. He eyed Severus inquisitively, his chestnut-colored eyes – so bright they looked almost red in the fading sunlight filtering through the dining hall's arched, stained-glassed windows – widening. "Surely our beloved headmaster would not trust _you_ with so much potentially dangerous information?" he said breathlessly. "You must have been very sneaky, Severus, to learn so very much."

Severus' eyes sharpened, but he raised his wine goblet slightly towards Abaddon, as though to accept the "praise". "Very sneaky, yes." he drawled sarcastically, taking only a small sip of the rich red wine before setting his goblet back on the table. Abaddon was still staring at him wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open.

Lucius glanced between the two, then gave a small mental shrug and turned back to look at Voldemort. The dark lord's seat was at the head of the small rectangular table, with Lucius sitting on his right and the other three Death Eaters – Severus Snape, Abaddon Jugson, and Walden Macnair (Voldemort's chief spy in the Ministry, now that Augustus Rookwood was dead) – spread out after him. The seat to Voldemort's left was left pointedly open – that had been Bellatrix Lestrange's throne.

"If Dumbledore does decide to attack, however, and somehow manages to get past the front fortifications, then he will still have to navigate the rest of the house – which is rigged with more traps and defenses – to find his way out. And, to get to the prisoner, he would have to go down the trapdoor in the east wing library; the only entrance to the dungeons. There are more defenses down there, of course, and alarms which will immediately alert Narcissa and myself if anyone enters the dungeons."

"Anyone besides one of us, you mean." said Walden Macnair, surveying his old friend closely. Lucius nodded.

"Yes."

"Hmm…" said Abaddon, pulling on one of his long strands of chestnut-colored hair – hair the same color as his eyes – thoughtfully. "And if one of us darlings goes down there without permission, Lucius? Hmm?"

"I do not foresee that being a problem." said Lucius icily. Abaddon merely shrugged.

"I don't trust any of you lovelies here." he murmured, sinking down lower in his chair and propping his chin against his arms, which were lying crossed on the table. "I don't trust any of my lovely darlings."

A stony silence followed this statement. Abaddon, apparently not noticing this, sighed and pushed a strand of shoulder-length hair out of his soft, handsome face. "You're all so sneaky." he said, smiling slightly to himself. "And all so tricky. It's very difficult to know what to do with you, my dears." He raised his head slightly and beamed at Severus, who was sitting across from him and was glaring at him coldly. "Isn't it lucky that we're _all_ so tricky and _all_ so sneaky, Severus?"

"Quite." spat Severus. Abaddon's face fell.

"Do you hate me, Severus?" he asked anxiously. "That would make me very sad, you know."

"I can only imagine." mumbled Walden, from Lucius' right.

"Enough." said Voldemort coldly. Severus nodded curtly, his eyes not leaving Abaddon's. Abaddon sighed loudly and dropped his head down further, so that his face was completely buried in his arms and his long, silky hair spilled over his shoulders and across the table.

"Sorry." he grunted, his voice muffled.

"There is no need to further secure the Manor." drawled Voldemort, rising slowly – almost regally – from his seat and walking slowly around the table. Walden, unable to stop himself, shivered slightly as he passed. "None of my Death Eaters but you three and Wormtail know that I am here." Voldemort stopped walking suddenly, bending down and leaning forward to whisper in Severus' ear. "And I trust that you will keep it that way."

It took every ounce of willpower Severus had to keep from flinching.

Voldemort straightened once more. "There is a more pressing problem than the Manor's defenses, my loyal Death Eaters." he continued, his voice suddenly becoming colder and crueler. "Our prisoner is refusing to cooperate."

Walden, Severus, and Lucius all fell silent; Lucius rubbing his neck, which still had the traces of an enormous purple bruise, unconsciously. Abaddon, however, immediately raised his head and looked at Voldemort brightly.

"May I help convince him, master?" he whispered hopefully.

In an instant Voldemort whirled on him, grabbing him by the neck of his robes and lifting him into the air. "The prisoner is _mine_." he hissed, his long fingernails gouging through Abaddon's black satin robes and drawing small droplets of blood from his neck. Abaddon stared at him in terror. "_You will not touch him._"

"Y-Yes, master." choked Abaddon. Voldemort glared at him, his hold on his robes tightening…then he threw him down on the table, knocking several wine glasses over onto the parchment and dying it a slow, pinkish red. Abaddon slid down to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and whimpering slightly as he began to rock himself slowly back and forth.

Voldemort turned to look at the remainder of his inner circle. "_None_ of you will touch him." he growled, turning around and stalking out of the room.

Walden stood up hastily, nearly knocking his chair down to the floor as he grabbed Abaddon's arm and yanked him to his feet. "C'mon." he growled, dragging Abaddon after him as he strode towards the massive stone fireplace at the far end of the hall. Reaching into the large Grecian urn on the side of the fireplace, he drew out a handful of emerald green floo powder and threw it on the smoldering fire – shoving Abaddon in before him, he shouted "Ministry of Magic!", and a second later was gone in a rush of emerald flames.

Lucius and Severus turned to look at each other. At last Severus reached over, pulling the now soggy, pink-tinged map towards him and jabbing his finger at the ink drawing of the forest to the northwest of the Manor. "I couldn't help but notice," he said smoothly, as a tiny, shimmering white version of the forest appeared, hovering over the map, "That of your four underground tunnels leading from the Manor, one exits directly below a waterfall, another is buried beneath a rockslide, and one doesn't appear to exit in the forest at all."

Lucius picked up his fallen wineglass, waving his hand at the bottle of red wine. It levitated towards him and immediately began to refill his goblet. "False passageways to detour any pursuit." he said, shrugging.

Severus continued to eye him coolly. "The only passageway which actually leads into the forest and is traversable," he continued, his black eyes carefully watching Lucius for any sign of unease, "Leads to the…portkey, did you call it?"

Lucius' eyes sharpened. "Don't pretend you like this any more than I do, Severus." he hissed angrily, leaning forward and whispering so that only Severus could hear him. "I am not a fool like Abaddon – I do not serve the dark lord out of loyalty, I serve him because if I don't my family will die."

He glared fiercely at Severus, but Severus only leaned back slightly, eyeing him indifferently. "Only because you must, Lucius?" he said, his voice laced with amused scorn. "I doubt that."

Lucius bit back an angry retort and forced a brittle smile on his face. "Think what you like, Severus." he bit out, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. Severus continued to eye him unconcernedly, taking another sip of wine. Lucius walked around the table, heading towards the large double doors at the other end. "Perhaps this will convince you of my…motivations." he hissed, pausing for a moment to whisper into the potions master's ear. He pressed something into Severus' palm – Severus continued to stare straight ahead, but his hand tightened around whatever it was Lucius had thrust at him. Lucius straightened, then strode towards the doors at the end of the hall.

Severus waited for a few moments, until he heard a loud, resounding _boom_ – Lucius had left. He uncurled his fingers slowly – lying in the palm of his right hand, glimmering softly in the purplish light trickling from the hall's stained glass windows, was a small gold pendant on the end of a delicate silver chain. Fragile bronze wings were masterly hammered out and welded, and tiny onyx eyes glinted at Severus from within a small golden head.

Frowning, Severus held the tiny flying horse up to the light and spun it slowly on the end of its chain. "What are you planning, Lucius?" he murmured to himself, as a faint bluish light began to creep slowly from the horse pendant and surround it. He quickly tucked the pendant into his robe pocket, striding towards the stone fireplace that would take him back to Hogwarts. And, more importantly, back to Dumbledore.

"What are you planning…?"

**ooooo**

His fingers bloodied but a small, grim grin dancing across his face, James stopped scrabbling at the crumbling gray stone and reached back for the slightly larger, wedge-shaped piece of rock he had pried loose earlier. He raised it up, forcing his fingers to clench tighter around it as his broken arm screamed in protest.

He shoved the stone into the loose, crumbling mortar, instinctively curling up around his left forearm, where a jagged, freshly-opened gash was still oozing blood, as a small cloud of chalky gray dust expanded around him. Blinking through the dust, he picked up his makeshift sling from the ground, wrapping it carefully around the cut and seizing the end of the wedge-shaped rock once more.

Gritting his teeth, trying not to scream, James pushed down on the rock with both of his arms, sweat trickling down his face as he tried to lever the larger stone out of the wall. After several tense moments he finally gave up, panting and scooting backwards to rest his head against the wall. His earlier grin faded to a grimace as he looked down at his arms.

Both were covered in bruises and scabbed cuts – his fingers were scraped and bloodied, and more than one nail had been crushed and was now turning a slow, sickly purple. His right arm was twisted and bent awkwardly – it had broken two weeks ago, and despite the makeshift sling he had made out of his shirt it still hadn't even begun to heal. The forearm of his other arm had been ripped nearly in half three days ago, and the wound's edges, though it had begun to scab over, were covered in dirt and small, sharp flakes of stone.

He glanced up quickly as a small shuffling noise began to approach his cell from down the small, narrow dungeon passageway. He relaxed almost instantly, however, when large, saucer-like eyes stared at him sadly from between the cell's bars.

"Hello, Gwell." he said hoarsely, managing to turn his grimace back into a small, painful smile. The house elf's long, bat-like ears drooped.

"Mistress says Gwell mustn't talk to the prisoner." she mumbled to herself, bending down to slip a small tin of water and a plate of food through the bars of the door. "Very bad Gwell, talking to the prisoner…"

"Gwell," interrupted James, his hoarse voice cracking, "I need you to do something for me, please."

"Mustn't talk to the prisoner, mustn't speak with him!" yelped Gwell, shaking her head wretchedly and backing quickly away from James' dungeon cell. "Mistress says –"

"I need a blanket, Gwell." interrupted James, as earnestly as he could. "Or some bandages. Please."

Gwell continued to shake her head and stare at him in fright. "Mustn't speak to the prisoner, mustn't speak of the prisoner." she mumbled miserably. She bent her head, scuffling her feet – a moment later she looked back up at James, her large green eyes brimming with tears. "Gwell is, is s-s-sorry, sir." she whispered. A moment later a horrified look passed over her face, and, giving a small shriek, she turned around and fled back down the narrow, lightless corridor and back out of the dungeons.

James sighed, inching forward and grabbing the water and food Gwell had left. He raised the tin of water to his parched lips, drinking it thirstily. He finished most of it and laid the rest aside for later, then drew the plate Gwell had brought for him closer.

On it was a small sandwich, neatly cut in half diagonally, and a small, elf-sized biscuit.

James ate the sandwich ravenously, then stopped and eyed the biscuit curiously. In all the time Gwell had delivered meals to him – sporadically for over 65 days now – she had never given him anything besides the small sandwich and tin of water.

Turning the staled biscuit over in his hands, trying conscientiously not to get any blood on it, he saw, stamped in neat letters on the bottom – **Artio's House Elf Holiday Biscuits**. In even smaller letters below that were the words: _The Perfect Gift for Your Loyal Family Servant this Holiday Season_.

A small smile of understanding crossed his face. "Thank you, Gwell." he said quietly, though the house elf was too far away now to hear. Unable to stop himself any longer, he bit into the biscuit, finishing it in two bites, and then turned his attention back to the water.

He unwound his shirt from his left arm, barely managing to stifle a hiss of pain as a sharp, flinty-gray shard of rock dug deeper into the cut. Flipping the stained, fraying shirt over and managing to find a side that wasn't caked in dried blood, he lifted the water tin and, as gently as his broken arm would allow, sloshed what was left of the water onto the shirt. Twisting it carefully, willing his hands to stop trembling, he began to gently sponge at the cut.

He bit down sharply on his lip as he began to carefully dab at the edges of the gash, where small, jagged stones had become firmly embedded, even crusted over with drying blood. It hurt. Even when he gently brushed it it hurt almost as badly as one of Voldemort's curses. But he refused to scream, even if there was no way for Voldemort to hear him. _I won't let him have that; I'll never let him have that…_

Finally he pulled the shirt back and unwound it, wrapping it back around his arm and scooting backwards to the far corner of the cell, beneath a small window set high up in the crumbling stone wall that, just before sunset, let in a few rays of golden light. It was well into night now – the silvery half-moon outside was beginning to creep past the window, and a few faint, wobbly rays of silver light fell onto the floor of the cell, throwing the rest into complete shadow.

Resting his head back against the wall, letting out a sigh that sounded more like a moan, he pulled more tightly into himself and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep.

_July 22, 1987_

_Lily stared up at him sadly, her pale white fingers gently brushing against his cheek. They came away red and sticky with blood. "I'm so sorry." she murmured, resting her head gently against his chest. "I'm so, so sorry, love…" Trembling uncontrollably, James buried his face in her hair, ignoring the sharp jab of pain as she lay against his bruised chest. _

_Slowly his chest began to shudder as he heaved dry, painful sobs. "Why?" he whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching around her long auburn hair. "Why is all of this happening to me, Lily?"_

_She pulled away from him, gently stroking his face and leaning her forehead against his. Her eyes glinted, but suddenly they were red, not emerald green…_ "Don't you know, my dear? Because we _hate_ you."

James' eyes snapped open. A man with long, chestnut-colored hair was kneeling over him, a small, slightly insane smile dancing across his handsome face as he pressed a knife up against James' throat. "Hello, James." he whispered pleasantly, running the flat edge of the knife slowly up and down James' neck. "Sweet dreams?"

"Who are you?" croaked James, trying not to move as the knife's edge pressed back against his throat again. The man pursed his lips.

"Mr. Jugson." he said finally. "My friends call me Abaddon, but I don't suppose we are friends, hmm?"

Knife still pressed against James' throat, Abaddon swung himself around so that he and James were sitting side-by-side against the stone wall. "I'm a Death Eater, you know." he said conversationally, shifting the knife to his other hand so that he could sling his arm around James' shoulders. "But I'm not supposed to be visiting you here, my darling. He'll be very displeased when He finds out." Abaddon turned his wide, chestnut eyes onto James. "You won't tell Him, will you?" he murmured anxiously, his left arm tightening around James' shoulders. James glared at him. Abaddon sighed sadly and dropped his head down to rest on James' shoulder, raising the knife up so that it rested against James' cheek.

"Yes, I suppose you would." he murmured. James, repulsed but unable to move away, tensed. "That makes me very sad, my dear. And I was so hoping we could be friends." He gave a small, eerie laugh and moved his head up so that his mouth was by James' ear. "Too late for that now, hmm?"

In one fluid movement he dropped the knife and grabbed one of the loose rocks littering the floor. His other hand seized the back of James' neck, and he dragged James to his feet and threw him back forcefully to the ground. "You're quite an enigma, James." he said silkily, spreading his arms expansively and strolling back towards James, who had pushed himself up to his knees and was panting, clutching his broken arm protectively to him. "First you come back from the dead," – He kicked James in the back so that James fell forward again – "Unbeknownst to anybody, although He eventually figured it out. He's very tricky like that, you see." Abaddon dropped to his knees and grabbed James' shoulder, jerking him around to face him. "Do you want to know how you came back, James?" whispered Abaddon, his grip on James' shoulder tightening. James looked up at him dazedly, his vision blurring through a haze of pain. "I'll tell you." he continued, his smooth, silky voice hammering relentlessly against James' skull. "He drank your blood, James. After you died. He shares your blood, and when He came back you did, too." Abaddon laughed and released James, who glared at him through pain-fogged eyes.

"And do you want to know something else, James?" continued Abaddon, idly twirling a long, silky strand of chestnut hair with his free hand as he walked slowly around James. "Do you want to know why He came for you? I can tell you that. It wasn't really revenge. Not mostly. He's very, very proud, James, but not that proud, I think." Abaddon paused contemplatively for a moment. "It was only partly vengeance. Because, my darling, He respects you. He hates you, but He respects you. It's funny, isn't it?"

Abaddon stopped pacing around James and bent down to look him in the eye. His eyes were large and bright, and his lower lip was trembling slightly. He looked incredibly pitiable, even childlike. "He's never, ever respected me, James." he whispered tremulously. "Nobody has."

"Why did – he – come – for me?" hissed James through gritted teeth. Abaddon's eyes darkened.

"I was just getting to that, dearest." he said in a whiney, peevish voice, standing up again and kicking James sharply in the ribs. James clenched his teeth, refusing to scream. "He respects you! He _knows_ you're powerful, and He _knows_ that there's only one thing in the world you want, and _He knows_ He can give it to you."

There was silence for a moment.

Then, very, very slowly, James dragged himself over to the rough, crumbling stone wall and began to pull himself up. Still glaring fiercely at Abaddon, ignoring the dizzy, uneven pounding in his head and in his arms, he whispered venomously, "There is nothing – **_nothing_** – that Voldemort can give me that I want."

Abaddon was eyeing him with a sort of friendly amusement, frowning in apparent concern as James gasped, his fingers digging into the wall as he retched against another wave of blinding pain.

"Nothing." spat James finally, sliding to the floor and curling into a tight ball.

"Oh James, my dear, don't be so hasty." murmured Abaddon, squatting down next to James and stroking his hair absently. "There is something He has that you want…"

"Noth–"

"…Your son."

James wasn't aware of launching towards Abaddon, wasn't aware of throwing the man backwards, but a second later he was punching every inch of him he could see, his ears ringing and his heart beating furiously. His eyes were blurred with rage, his insides were writhing and he wanted nothing more than to keep punching Abaddon, to pound him until he was dead and then to keep going… he couldn't feel any pain anymore, not even when his hands were covered in blood – his and Abaddon's – and the gash in his arm reopened in a spray of blood and the bones in his broken arm grated together…

"Harry's **_dead!_**" he shouted, ignoring Abaddon's hands, which were tightening desperately around his throat, and knocking the man's head back against the floor. "_**DEAD!** He killed him! _And it's _your_ fault, and people like you, and you don't care that my son is **_dead_**, he's dead, dead…"

"James, my dear, he's –"

"Or did you bring him back, and now he's an, an inferi, one of Voldemort's minions, and he's still dead and he's not Harry but he still is, and –"

"He's _alive_, James."

"**_HE KILLED HIM!_**"

Abaddon grabbed James wrists, wincing as James elbowed him in the chest and rolling over so that he was kneeling atop James, effectively pinning him down.

"Darling, be reasonable. I'm not _lying_ to you. Your son is alive, and if you join our master –"

"_Your_ master." screamed James, still thrashing and trying to throw Abaddon off of him.

"– _Our_ master, you will see him again." Abaddon beamed again. "Wouldn't that be lovely, James? You'd have a _family_ again."

"Voldemort –"

"Did you see a grave marker, hmm? Did the filthy muggles tell you he had died?" James had stopped struggling now, and was glaring at Abaddon through narrowed eyes.

"Why?" he spat.

Abaddon paused for a moment. "Our master had a change of heart." he said finally, straightening and stepping away from James, brushing off his robes and wiping his bleeding face with his sleeve. James slowly pushed himself into a crouch. "He reconsidered. You see, James, it makes so much more sense to raise the boy to be another dark wizard, instead of just killing him. To be an, an…an apprentice."

James stiffened, his eyes locked and staring straight at Abaddon.

"You believe me now, my darling? Little Harry Potter is still alive, and if you want to see him again all you have to do is join with our master. Isn't that easy?"

Abaddon waited for a response, but James looked as though he were petrified. "Of course," continued Abaddon, bending down and picking up the large rock he had been holding earlier, "You can't take it lightly. Becoming a Death Eater, I mean. You have to want it. More than…anything, I think. But maybe you can do that for your son, hmm? Our master's been having some trouble with him, you see. He's not very cooperative. Our master was thinking that maybe you could help, my dear. But I'm afraid you'll have to make up your mind by the thirty-first. That's…nine days."

Abaddon turned away, shifting the rock to his other hand as he pulled on his black gloves with apparent relish.

"Why then?" whispered James hoarsely. Abaddon turned back to him, looking surprised but rather pleased.

"Because, my darling," he said softly, his fist – clenched around the rock – swinging back, "Otherwise that's when he dies."

Abaddon's fist swung forward – his mind still reeling, James couldn't so much as tense before it slammed into his face. Thrown backwards to the floor, his right shoulder slamming against one of the rocks littering the ground, James, stunned and barely conscious, closed his eyes as Abaddon ambled to the back of the cell and picked up his knife. "Good night, James." murmured Abaddon. There was a loud creak as the door to the cell swung open, then a click as Abaddon locked it again. Then a brisk tapping as Abaddon strode away, and silence.

* * *

**A/N** - Before you guys decide to kill me...yes, Abaddon is lying through his teeth about Harry being Voldemort's apprentice. Unfortunately, James doesn't know that. 

That's it, I think. Thank you for all of the reviews - you guys are fantastic.

Next update - The Boy-Who-Lived. In which Harry (finally) enters the picture, Remus displays his split-second decision making prowess, and Abaddon makes an unwelcome appearance. Coming soon.


	9. The BoyWhoLived

**A/N - **WOW - over 100 reviews! You guys are the best - thanks so much! I'm completely blown away...

Due to a few questions regarding Abaddon's sexuality..._THERE IS NO YAOI/SLASH IN THIS STORY._

Anyways...onto the story - I hope you enjoy.

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 9 – The Boy-Who-Lived_

_July 31, 1987_

Harry squinted against the late afternoon sun, swinging his legs idly as he watched a large bird circle lazily overhead, then swoop down onto Wisteria Walk. A soft breeze was blowing past him, brushing against his bare feet and rustling his mussy, jet black hair.

"Oi! Potter!"

Distracted, Harry glanced down from his perch at the top of the slide in the nearly abandoned playground. His cousin, Dudley Dursley, was standing at the foot of the slide, surrounded by his group of friends and leering up at him. "I _said_ he'd be here." said Dudley triumphantly, looking back down to trade knowing looks with his friends. "Didn't I say he'd be here?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, you did."

"He's _always_ here, isn't he? He's got no _friends_."

Harry cleared his throat, and they all – Dudley, Piers, Gordon and Dennis – looked up at him. "Aunt Petunia said I could come." said Harry bravely, adjusting his glasses slightly and trying his best to glare down at them. "I asked her."

"Oh, yeah?" sneered Dudley. "You didn't ask _me_." His friends guffawed, as though he'd said something particularly clever. Harry frowned, his emerald green eyes narrowing slightly.

"I'm not leaving." he said loudly. The laughter from Dudley's gang slowly died off.

His piggy eyes glaring furiously up at Harry, Dudley scowled and pointed one fat finger up at his cousin. "We want to use the slide." he said threateningly, pushing Piers Polkiss, a scrawny boy no taller than Harry who had a face like a rat's, towards the ladder leading up to the steep, rusted metal slide. "Get him off, Piers."

Harry watched unconcernedly as Piers grinned toothily and began to scramble up the metal ladder. The slide was old and nearly broken down – it was swaying slightly even in the gentle breeze blowing over the tops of the houses and through the trees, and Harry, his bare feet sticking out under the low railing on the slide platform, doubted that any of Dudley's friends would be able to climb all the way up, much less slide down.

"Hey, Potter! It's your birthday, isn't it? Didn't you get any presents, or anything?"

Harry turned slowly to look back down at the group standing at the base of the slide – Gordon Jenkins was leering up at him, his pudgy arms crossed in front of his chest. "_I_ got all sorts of presents for my birthday. I got a remote-control truck, and a bike, and a bulldog, even. My parents got 'em for me, but _you_ couldn't get any presents from _your_ parents 'cause _your_ parents are _dead_." He laughed. "Bet they died 'cause they didn't want you, Potter. Probably wanted to get rid of you 'cause they _hated_ you, so they _died_."

Now all of Dudley's gang was laughing, even Piers, who had by now managed to climb halfway up the ladder. His eyes stinging with tears, Harry pulled his legs back and sat huddled up on the platform, glaring at Gordon and Dudley and all the rest of them.

"They did not." he whispered, his voice trembling as he shook his head furiously. "You're lying."

"I don't blame 'em, 'cause, see, _everybody_ hates you, Potter…"

"They didn't hate me!" said Harry loudly, wiping his eyes quickly so that Dudley and his friends wouldn't know he was crying. "And, and Mrs. Figg likes me, and other people do too…"

"Yeah? Then why don't they come and visit you, then? My aunt says she loves me too, and she comes and sees me, but nobody wants to come and see _you_. Not even any uncles or anything."

"He doesn't have any, any…relatives. They're all dead, that's why he had to come and stay with _us_. That's what Mum says." Dudley glowered up at Harry. "She says it was 'a very, very…_chartible_ act, taking someone like _him_ in.'"

Gordon looked over at Dudley, his brow furrowed. "What's chartible mean?"

"Means helpful." piped up Dennis. The rest of the group nodded and looked back up at Harry.

"I wouldn't of been chartible." said Gordon, voicing the general opinion of the gang.

"Hey, Potter!" Piers had finally managed to reach the top of the ladder – wiping his eyes hurriedly again and swiveling around, Harry glared at him.

"I'm not getting down." he said stubbornly, his emerald green eyes flashing. "You can't make me."

Piers grinned toothily. "Oh, yeah?"

Harry grabbed onto the low railing circling the platform, bracing himself as Piers shot forward and tried to shoulder him off. Unable to make Harry so much as budge, Piers instead grabbed Harry's arm, wrenching him away from the railing and managing to shove him onto the slide before Harry could react.

"I'm not – getting – down!" hissed Harry, twisting himself and bracing himself against the slide before Piers could push him down. Piers' grin widened.

"You're just Potter, Potter. You do what we say, 'member?" Backing up to the far edge of the platform, Piers ran towards Harry, slamming into him and sending both of them hurtling down the slide.

With a loud thump Harry shot off the slide and hit the ground – a moment later Piers shot out too, landing right on top of him. In an instant Dudley, Gordon, and Dennis helped Piers back to his feet and were standing in a rough circle around Harry, who sat up and was shaking his head dazedly.

"Should we chase him, Dudley?" asked Piers eagerly, scooting forward slightly and nudging Harry with his foot.

"It's his birthday." said Dennis hesitantly, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Harry, who had pushed himself up to a crouch and was glaring up at them. "Might not be nice, chasing him on his birthday."

Dudley, Gordon, and Piers turned to stare at him incredulously. "He's _Harry_." said Gordon, as though this explained everything. Dennis wilted.

"Yeah, right." he mumbled, shuffling his feet and trying to avoid the rest of the gang's eyes. "Just Harry."

Dudley turned back to Harry, a malicious grin on his face as he grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him to his feet.

"Should we give him a, a…start?"

"Nah."

"He's not running, Dudley! Make him run!"

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as Dudley and his gang closed around him, blinking back tears and trying not to sniffle. He hated it when Dudley and his gang picked on him, hated it when they made a special point of seeking him out to torment him.

"Leave me alone." he whispered.

Dudley's gang stood in shocked silence for a moment. Then Dudley, his piggy eyes narrowing furiously, grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him out of the circle. "_Run_, Potter!" he yelled, shoving Harry forward. Harry stumbled and nearly fell forward again. "**_Run!_**"

Not seeing any other choice, Harry ran.

Sprinting past Gordon and Piers, Harry didn't bother to pick up his shoes, which were lying at the foot of a faded old park bench, and ran as fast as he could away from Dudley and away from Dudley's friends and away from _everything_. Tears were trickling from his eyes and his throat was tightening, but he only ran faster, out of the park and across the deserted street.

By the time he stopped running he was gasping for breath, his feet were torn up and his face was streaked with dirt and tears. Wiping his face hurriedly on the sleeve of his too-large shirt, he looked around him for the first time.

He was in a back alley he had never seen before. Rusted old garbage cans and graffitied brick walls enclosed either side of him, along with broken-down old bikes, an ancient sofa which looked as though a large dog had ripped it to shreds, and a lingering smell which spoke of mounds of trash and neglect. There was an odd mist rising from the cracked pavement and idly drifting and spiraling up to the cracked and broken windows, and Harry, stumbling backwards, could feel it slowly seeping into his skin and numbing him.

Harry staggered back further, nearly stepping onto a pile of broken glass as he pressed himself back against the wall. "H-hello?" he whispered, his voice quavering slightly. Nobody answered. "Hello?" he called again, louder this time.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry whirled around, gasping and pressing himself as tightly back against the wall as he could. A man was strolling leisurely towards him out of the mist on the far end of the alleyway, and Harry could see, almost completely concealed by the haze, two figures standing behind him.

"W-who are you?" whispered Harry tremulously. The man, now close enough to reach out and touch Harry, laughed.

He had long, light brownish-red hair, which hung down nearly to his waist and was tied back into a loose ponytail. His face was pale and handsome, but he was smiling at Harry with an odd mixture of pleasantness and cruel amusement. His eyes were hooded in shadow, and he was wearing… – Harry frowned confusedly. He looked like he was wearing a loose black _dress_…

He squatted down in front of Harry so that they were eye to eye. "My name is Abaddon." he said softly, reaching out with the sleeve of his dress – _no, not a dress…_ Harry realized with a jolt. He was wearing _robes_ – and gently wiping Harry's face. "Do you remember me?"

Harry shook his head slowly, and the man sighed. "No, my dear, I didn't think you would. I'm one of your dad's friends."

Harry froze. "You, you knew my d-dad?"

Abaddon nodded and smiled brightly at Harry. "Yes, I did. You look very much like him, you know. Except for your eyes, hmm."

Harry's mind was whirling so fast he didn't know what to say. At last he stammered, "W-why are you here?"

Abaddon laughed and clapped Harry gently on the shoulder. "My darling, we've come to take you away."

Before he could stop himself Harry was backing hurriedly away from Abaddon, panting slightly as he stumbled backwards and gazed at Abaddon with wide, frightened emerald-green eyes. "You, you're going to k-kidnap me?" he whispered, horrorstruck.

Abaddon looked astonished and slightly hurt that Harry would suggest any such thing. "Oh, Harry my dear, of course not. Why would we do that, hmm? I just want to take you away from your horrid aunt and uncle. James Potter's son deserves much more than that."

Harry stopped backing away, but was still staring at Abaddon with frightened eyes. "This, this is my _home_." he whispered. "And, and I d-don't think I want to l-leave, thanks."

One of the men behind Abaddon began to step threateningly forward, but Abaddon gestured him back with a wave of his hand. "Of course you don't _have_ to leave." he said soothingly, squatting down in front of Harry again and cupping Harry's face in his hand. "I just hoped you might want to live with me, instead. I think your father would want you to come with me, my dear. He would want you to live with people who care about you."

"But, the Dursleys –"

"Oh, we've already told them." lied Abaddon, smiling slightly as Harry's eyes began to flicker with hope. "They don't mind, Harry. Would you like to see something?" He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled something out. Squinting through the semi-darkness and the mist, Harry saw that it was a pair of silver, oval-shaped glasses. "These were your father's. Would you like to try them on?"

Before he could stop himself Harry nodded eagerly. Still smiling, Abaddon slipped off Harry's glasses and put James' on. Harry blinked – the glasses were several sizes too large, and were threatening to slip off the bridge of his nose. Abaddon's smile widened.

"You really do look just like him, darling."

One of the men behind Abaddon coughed. "Abaddon, someone's coming…"

Abaddon's smile grew fixed, and his eyes – still in shadow – locked onto Harry's. "Do you want to come with us, my dear? You need to decide now, I'm afraid."

Harry wavered for a moment, taking his dad's glasses off and turning them over and over in his hands. At last he looked up, squinting as he tried to focus on Abaddon. "Al-alright." he whispered hesitantly. Abaddon beamed.

"Marvelous, darling. Take my hand, then, and we can go."

Still hesitating, Harry grabbed Abaddon's hand. It was cold to the touch, but Harry held on tightly and closed his eyes. And then, all of a sudden, there was a loud crack.

It felt as though he was being squeezed through a long, narrow tube. His eyes felt like they would pop out of his head, or squeeze back into his skull, and his insides were being squeezed and tightened inside of him – he couldn't breath, he didn't dare open his eyes to see, and just when he thought he couldn't take any more it was all over.

A cool, crisp night breeze was blowing past him, the muted sounds of traffic carrying to him on the night air. Opening his eyes, Harry saw that they were standing beneath a tall, lit streetlight, which was casting an aura of comfortable orange light on the pavement around them.

Harry tightened his grip on Abaddon's hand. "Wh-what?" he stammered, stuffing his own glasses back on and gazing around with terrified eyes. "H-how –"

"Don't worry, Harry darling." murmured Abaddon delicately, stepping forward and half-dragging Harry after him. "We just apparated. We won't have to do it again, though."

"What –"

"Quiet!" snapped Abaddon sternly, the pleasant look on his face fading as he scowled. "Something's –"

Abaddon broke off as, for the second time that night, a loud crack split the air. Abaddon whirled around, pushing Harry behind him as he drew a thin stick of wood out of his pocket. There was absolute silence for a moment.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" murmured Abaddon, his eyes darting back and forth in front of him. The silence continued, and finally Abaddon sighed. "I have the boy, you know…" he said loudly. "And, if you don't come out right now, I'll kill the darling."

Harry, horrified, gasped and tried to turn, to wrench himself free of Abaddon – but now he was frozen in place, unable to move or utter a sound.

There was still no reply, so Abaddon sighed again and drew something else out of the pocket of his robes. It was a knife. "Very well, then." He turned to Harry, and for the first time Harry could see his eyes. They were the same color as his hair, a deep, reddish-brown, but in the orange light trickling down from the streetlamp they looked as though they were glinting with madness. "I'm sorry to have to do this, my darling." murmured Abaddon, pressing the knife up to Harry's throat. "Poor James will be so upset, won't he?" Abaddon laughed, and pressed the tip of the knife against Harry's neck so that a small trickle of blood ran slowly down onto the knife. He leaned closer to Harry so that he was whispering in Harry's ear. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

"NO!"

Abaddon whirled around, his knife still pressed tightly against Harry's throat as his face broke into a smile. A man was stepping out of the shadows in front of them, his face chalk white and his hands visibly trembling. "Remus Lupin!" said Abaddon, sounding surprised. "Hmm…I wasn't expecting you, my dear…"

"Let Harry go." whispered Remus hoarsely, his golden-brown eyes darting between Abaddon and Harry. Abaddon clucked his tongue impatiently.

"My darling, I can't let the boy _go_ just because you're here. That would be silly." Abaddon cocked his head, a wistful smile coming onto his face. "Do you remember me, Remus? We met seven years ago, I think. In London." Abaddon's wistful smile grew wider. "I nearly killed you. I would have, too, if it weren't for dear little Sirius and James. What a pity."

"Let Harry go." repeated Remus roughly, taking another step forward. He too was holding a narrow stick of wood, though he was dressed more normally in a shabby but well cared for overcoat, trousers, and an old shirt.

"Didn't I just tell you I _can't_?" said Abaddon exasperatedly, pressing the knife a bit tighter against Harry's throat. "Remus, Remus…put your wand down; I don't want to have to kill you too, my dear…" Remus glared at him, his amber-colored eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You so much as touch Harry…," he growled warningly.

Abaddon smiled pleasantly. "It's a little late for that, darling, don't you think?" Wrapping his arm around Harry's neck, Abaddon raised his wand and said silkily, "Accio portkey!"

"Isn't it funny, Remus?" continued Abaddon amiably, tucking his wand back into his pocket while his other arm maintained his chokehold on Harry. "Our lovely little Harry here came with me because I said I was one of James' friends, and here you are! A little too late to save him though, I think." Abaddon turned as a bouquet of scarlet roses shot towards him – Remus paused for a fraction of a second, then lunged forward, his hand brushing Harry's arm just as Abaddon caught the bouquet.

Remus' hand tightened on Harry's arm as he felt a familiar jerk around his navel. The world disappeared in a howl of sound and swirling color, and they were gone.

* * *

**A/N** - Duhduhduhn... 

Sorry the reviews are out of order, but I was trying to get this posted as quickly as possible. Anyways - thanks all for reviewing, you are the BEST, please keep it up!

Next Update - _Into the Dungeons_. In which Remus recieves a rather unfair choice, major problems ensue, and the Harry-Remus bonding begins. Coming soon.


	10. Into the Dungeons

**A/N - **WOW - you guys, the responses for that last chapter were completely amazing: thanks, guys. Seriously, thank you.

This chapter continues directly from where the last one left off, and - since I know there's going to be confusion about this - _there is a full moon on August 9th, nine days after this chapter takes place. _Hopefully that will clear up some confusion.

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 10 – Into the Dungeons_

_July 31, 1987_

Remus looked up slowly, his grip on Harry's arm tightening. Abaddon was still sitting with his hand on the bouquet of roses, blinking disconcertedly and brushing a strand of chestnut hair behind his ear with his free hand. "My, my…" he whispered, when Remus turned to look at him. "You _are_ clever, aren't you?"

Remus growled, wrenching Harry away from Abaddon's limp fingers and pulling him closer to him. Harry's eyes were tightly shut and his breath was coming in quick gasps, but the rest of his body was completely rigid.

Pulling his wand quickly out of his pocket, he glanced up anxiously as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed towards them, coming steadily closer. "Laxus totalus." he whispered. Harry jerked spasmodically, his eyes fluttering open. Remus swallowed and forced a shaky smile on his face, his arms loosening very slightly around Harry as he saw the panic in Harry's eyes. "It's alright." he murmured, raising himself to a kneel and quickly scanning the room they were in. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

It looked as though they were in an empty cathedral. Enormous arched, stained-glass windows ran the breadth of the hall, and through the murky semi-darkness filtering through them Remus could make out images of dragons, wizards, and – he squinted. Flying horses or hippogriffs, he wasn't sure which…

A relatively small but ornate wooden table sat in the very middle of the hall, and beyond that was a large stone fireplace, flanked on either side by a suit of armor and an antique urn. Various tapestries, swords, and framed paintings adorned the walls, and the cobblestone floor was littered with threadbare rugs, mostly green and silver in color.

Remus got quickly to his feet, pulling Harry up after him and pointing his wand at Abaddon. "Don't try anything." he said warningly, pushing Harry gently behind him as he began to walk as quickly as he dared down the hall towards the fireplace. Abaddon, however, wasn't paying any attention to him and was instead staring at the massive wooden doors at the opposite end of the hall. He was chanting under his breath.

"Ten…nine…eight…"

"Come on, Harry." said Remus apprehensively, lengthening his stride. Harry, his face tear-streaked and pale, hurried to keep up with him.

"Seven…six…five…four…"

Remus thrust Harry in front of him. "Run!" he whispered desperately, breaking into a sprint and willing himself and Harry to move faster. The stone fireplace was coming closer, but not close enough…

"Three…two…"

The doors at the end of the hall blasted open.

Remus whirled around, grabbing Harry's arm and thrusting him behind him as he drew his wand. Four figures were standing in the doorway, although they were so hooded in shadow he couldn't make out their faces. Slowly the one in front began to walk forward.

Remus' grip on Harry tightened as he let out an involuntary gasp. "You…" he whispered, unable to draw his eyes away from the man standing before him.

The man's eyes, narrowed in cold amusement, were scarlet red and pupiless. His skin was chalk white, his nose nonexistent but for two narrow slits for nostrils, and the top of his bald head glinted slightly in the fading light trickling through the stained glass windows.

Lord Voldemort.

"Well, well." he said softly, staring at Remus with a mixture of anger and amusement. "If it isn't Remus Lupin. How…ironic."

"The boy is there too, master." whispered Abaddon, getting to his feet and swaying dizzily. "Behind him."

Voldemort ignored him. "Did Dumbledore send you?" he asked quietly, his red eyes focusing intently on Remus. Remus tried to look away but couldn't – he could feel Voldemort, probing and prying into his mind…

_He was sitting on Mrs. Pettigrew's front porch, drinking the last of his tea and watching as the moon rose slowly overhead… He and Dumbledore were standing on the edge of the lake, their cloaks snapping out behind them in the wind; Dumbledore was surveying him over his half-moon glasses, his light blue eyes twinkling brightly… Dumbledore was by the fireplace in his shabby, rundown flat, handing him something on a silver chain…_

"My lord!"

Suddenly Voldemort's pressure on his mind ceased. Remus looked up dazedly, distantly aware that he had fallen to his knees, as another man strode forward.

Severus Snape, his black eyes emotionless as he spared Remus a passing glance, dropped to a bow before Voldemort. "My lord, he is here on Dumbledore's orders." said Snape smoothly, his head still bent deferentially to the ground. "Dumbledore sent him to protect the boy."

"Oh?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes turning from Remus, still kneeling on the ground trembling, to Snape. "You know this, Severus?" Snape nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"Yes, master."

"Then perhaps you will care to explain to me why you did not inform me of it before." continued Voldemort, his voice still deceptively quiet.

"Dumbledore only revealed to me that he had asked the werewolf to protect Harry Potter, and that the werewolf refused." said Snape calmly. "I did not know that Remus Lupin had reconsidered and accepted Dumbledore's offer."

"Indeed." said Voldemort softly, his red eyes studying Snape intently. "And yet you did not inform me of Dumbledore's…offer…to the werewolf at all."

"An error of judgment, master."

Voldemort drew his wand and eyed it casually in the half-light illuminating the hall. "Such lapses in decision, Severus, ill become you." Ignoring Remus, who had pushed himself to his feet and staggered back to stand in front of Harry, Voldemort leveled his wand indifferently at Snape, who tensed. "Crucio."

Voldemort turned back to look at Remus as Snape's unwilling screams rang and echoed within the hall. "Dumbledore sent you." he mused quietly, idly twirling his wand as he stared broodingly at Remus, who clenched his jaw and was trying unsuccessfully to ignore Snape's continuing screaming. "I could kill you…," he continued, walking in a slow circle around Remus. Remus followed him, one hand resting protectively on Harry's slender, trembling shoulder and the other holding his wand. At last Voldemort stopped, directly between Remus and the fireplace.

"But I will not risk that." said Voldemort softly, his red eyes flashing as he waved his wand. The fireplace behind him roared into life, red and orange flames leaping out of the grate and licking the stone façade. Remus could feel Harry give a small, shuddering sob behind him, and his pressure on his shoulder tightened. "And so, Remus Lupin, I am presented with a dilemma."

Voldemort flicked his wand, and Snape's screams, growing in desperation and volume, suddenly ceased. Chancing a glance behind him, Remus saw that Snape was still collapsed on the floor, his sallow face even paler then usual and his breath shaky as he tried to force himself onto his knees. None of the Death Eaters moved forward to help him.

"I will give you two choices, Remus Lupin." continued Voldemort, his voice once more laced with cold amusement. Remus realized, with a sinking feeling in his heart, that Voldemort was toying with him.

"Let Harry go." Remus said loudly, straightening and mustering every hint of desperation, rage, and bravery he could as he stared Voldemort in the eye. "Let Harry go back to Hogwarts, and I don't care what you do to me. _Quiet_, Harry." he added harshly, as Harry whimpered in protest.

Voldemort continued to eye him coolly. "You may leave the boy here and go back to Hogwarts." he said impassively, gesturing slightly with one hand. The flames in the fireplace roared higher. "Or," he continued, his voice dropping slightly and a slow, pitiless smile curling across his face, "You may stay here with him, as our…guest."

Remus could feel Harry shrink against his side. He took a deep breath. "I stay _with_ Harry." he said evenly, ignoring Abaddon and one of the other Death Eaters, who were laughing softly behind him. Voldemort's smile widened, and he waved his wand casually at Harry and Remus.

Thin, silver cords burst from his wand, wrapping themselves around Harry and Remus' wrists. "Take them to the dungeons." said Voldemort amusedly, his red eyes glinting in the firelight. "To the cell on the right." He stepped forward until he was face to face with Remus. Remus shuddered and dropped his gaze. "I was going to kill the boy myself." said Voldemort, his voice low enough that only Remus could hear him. "But I do appreciate ironies, Remus Lupin. And so I will have you kill Harry for me, in nine days." Voldemort laughed as a look of horror passed over Remus' face. "The ultimate of paradoxes, _werewolf_. Your best friend's son will die at your…condition."

Abaddon, flitting to Voldemort's side and grabbing the ropes binding Remus' wrists, laughed. "Sweet dreams," he said, leaning forward to whisper in Remus' ear. "_Werewolf_."

**ooooo**

Remus tugged vainly on the cords binding his wrists again, stumbling over a loose rock and nearly falling. Abaddon turned around, his lips gathered in a pout as he slapped Remus across the face. "You're so clumsy, Remus!" he whined, stomping on Remus' foot as he turned back around and yanked Remus roughly forward, nearly making him fall again. "You can't escape; it's _impossible_. Our other prisoner's been trying for ages and ages and he hasn't even gotten out of his cell yet!" Abaddon smiled, obviously pleased. Remus, distracted, stopped fumbling with the cords and looked up.

"You have another prisoner?"

"I just said that, darling." snapped Abaddon exasperatedly, stomping on Remus' foot again. "His name is – oh, never mind. I can't tell you his name. It's a _secret_." Abaddon turned around again, tapping Remus lightly on the nose and beaming. "I can't tell you, my dear, because then I'd have to kill you." he said seriously. "But you know him."

"Nobody I know is missing." said Remus warily. Abaddon huffed.

"Is anybody you know _dead_, my lovely?" he said crossly.

"What do you –" began Remus, but Abaddon interrupted him.

"You, little Harry, and the prisoner." he said delightedly, kicking one of the loose stones littering the earthy stairway and clapping his hands when it clattered down several steps and hit the Death Eater holding Harry in the leg. "It's so, so…"

"Ironic?" suggested Remus. Abaddon giggled.

"Yes, my lovely darling, it is. What's even _more_ ironic is that you're going to kill little Harry. I'll have to tell the prisoner that – he won't be very happy, I'm afraid."

Remus could feel himself blanch. "I won't kill Harry." he vowed softly, his hands clenching and unclenching and his chest tightening. "I couldn't…"

Abaddon clucked his tongue impatiently. "You will, my darling, you will. You'll be locked with him in a tiny cell all night. You'll rip the poor little dear to shreds." Abaddon giggled again, then sobered. "Oh look, Remus – here we are."

The tunnel-like stairway fell away, and suddenly they were in a narrow stone passageway. Directly in front of them was a solid stone wall, but to either side Remus could make out thin metal bars – dungeon cells. He could just make out the form of a man, staring avidly at them from the cell on the far left; he squinted, trying to look closer, but before he could Abaddon yanked him to the right, to the other, empty cell.

The man holding Harry had stopped in front of the cell, his lit wand the only source of light in the otherwise pitch-black dungeons. Abaddon stopped too, fumbling in the pockets of his black, silken robe. Harry's wrists were cut and bleeding – his eyes were wide and unnaturally bright beneath his glasses, and he was shaking uncontrollably.

Unable to look him in the eye, Remus turned away and peered back down the passageway connecting the dungeons, trying vainly to catch another glimpse of 'the prisoner'.

"Aha! In you go, my darlings!" The cords on Remus and Harry's wrists suddenly disintegrated – before Remus could do so much as take a step forward, however, the other Death Eater grabbed his shoulders and shoved him roughly into the cell. The metal door snapped shut behind him, and Abaddon locked it with a small click. He beamed in at Remus.

"Good bye!"

Abaddon turned on his heel, his robes swirling around him, and marched back down the passageway – after a moment the other Death Eater followed him, leaving Harry and Remus in almost complete darkness.

Remus let out his breath slowly. "Harry?" he called softly. There was a muffled sob, and a moment later something warm bumped into Remus' shoulder. Remus grabbed Harry's arm, steadying him, and pulled Harry closer so that the seven year-old's head was resting against his chest. "It's alright." he murmured softly, as Harry sobs grew. He patted Harry awkwardly on the back. "You're safe now."

His shirt was soon soaked with tears, but Remus didn't let Harry draw back until he had stopped shuddering. "Sorry." whispered Harry, sniffling. Remus exhaled silently and smiled, though Harry couldn't see him.

"It's alright." he said soothingly, easing himself slowly backwards until his back rested against an uneven stone wall. He could feel Harry shuffle over to sit down next to him. "You don't have to be ashamed of crying Harry, alright? It's alright to cry sometimes."

"You…you didn't cry." whispered Harry. His voice was trembling slightly, and Remus realized with a jolt that he was shivering. The air circulating slowly in the dungeons was bitter and damp, and reeked of decay.

Shrugging off his overcoat, Remus inched himself closer to Harry and laid it over both of them. "I was too scared to cry." said Remus at last, suppressing an involuntary flinch when Harry nestled against him. "I was crying inside."

There was silence for a moment. At last Harry shifted slightly, and though Remus couldn't see he knew Harry was looking up at him. "Did that man r-really know my, my dad?" he murmured hesitantly. Remus, though he had been expecting the question, scowled.

"No." he said shortly. He could feel Harry slump beside him, and his scowl turned into a small smile as he added, "But I did."

"You did?" asked Harry, amazed. "Is, is that how you know me?"

"Well…yes." edged Remus, deciding not to mention that every wizard in Britain knew Harry. "I know you wouldn't remember me, but I knew you when you were a baby, before your parents died."

"What was my dad like?" asked Harry softly. Remus managed a small, shaky laugh.

"He was…a very interesting man, Harry."

"What did he look like?" murmured Harry, his voice growing drowsy as he rested his head against Remus' arm. "The man said he looked like me."

"He did." whispered Remus, his arm beginning to grow tingly as Harry leaned against it. "Just like you. Except your eyes…you have Lily's eyes…" His voice faded away as he looked unseeingly down. He could feel Harry's slow, rhythmic breathing – he was asleep. Shifting his arm slightly, Remus sighed and leaned back against the wall once more. "Happy Birthday, Harry." he whispered. Not expecting any response and not receiving any, he closed his eyes and within minutes was asleep.

* * *

**A/N** - Shorter chapter, I know, but hopefully you enjoyed it. 

Thank you so much everyone for reviewing, I can't tell you how much it means to me! And special thanks to Elysia of Corellia and MissBlackPotter - your long reviews were simply astounding! Please, everyone, keep 'em coming!

Next Update: _Nostagalia_. In which more Harry/Remus bonding ensues, Abaddon makes a reappearance, and Remus has a rather dismal time of it. Coming soon.

Bye!


	11. Nostalgia

**A/N** - I wasn't going to update today, but I decided 29 reviews, you guys more than deserve it. Thank you so much!

This chapter's for SondiDondi, who turns 15 in two days. Happy birthday!

Also - this chapter features quite a bit of character torture. If that's not your thing, then please don't read it. That being said - please read, enjoy, and review! (Speaking of review - please read the notice at the bottom of the chapter. Thanks!)

**Chapter Warning: **

_This is another chapter fully deserving of the PG-13 rating – if you don't like character torture and emotional angst for our heroes, then **READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.**_

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 11 – Nostalgia _

_August 3, 1987_

Remus opened his eyes blearily, resisting the urge to rub them as Harry, still fast asleep, mumbled incoherently and leaned more heavily against his arm. Suppressing a shiver, he reached over with his free hand and pulled his overcoat closer up against them. Although a faint pinkish tinge was peering through the small barred window set high up into the wall and casting a dim light on the chipped stone floor, the chill in the dungeons lingered.

Looking down, nearly squinting through the lingering darkness, Remus shifted his right arm carefully so that Harry was lying against his side instead. Harry mumbled again, his bare feet curling under him as Remus tousled his hair gently.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." he whispered, his voice nearly cracking as Harry smiled faintly in his sleep. Drawing his gaze away from Harry, he turned to look instead at the thin metal bars separating their dungeon cell from the corridor outside. The bars were narrow and old but still strong – he'd tried to pry them apart the first day they were here, and they hadn't so much as budged – but there were large gaps in between them, gaps that just might be big enough for a slender seven year-old to slip through…

Caught up in his thoughts, Remus didn't notice Harry was awake until he yawned and shifted at his side. Turning back quickly, Remus forced a grin. "Good morning." he said quietly. Harry smiled shyly.

"Morning." he murmured. He hesitated for a moment, looking as though he were torn between pulling away from Remus and snuggling closer to him – at last he drew back and rubbed his eyes, wincing as his wrists rubbed together.

"Here, let me see those." said Remus automatically, reaching out and gently pulling Harry's arms to him.

Although Remus' wrists had mostly healed from where Voldemort's cords had cut them, Harry's were still raw and chafed. They had since stopped bleeding but his skin was still a deep, raw pink, standing in stark contrast to his otherwise almost unhealthily pale skin. Remus forced a strained, reluctant smile on his face.

"Try not to bend your wrists, alright?" he said softly, ripping a strip of cloth off of his shirt and tying it in a loose bandage around Harry's right wrist. Harry watched him with solemn eyes, wincing slightly but otherwise still as Remus tore off another strip of cloth and tied it around his left wrist.

"Remus?" whispered Harry at last, his eyes following Remus' every move as Remus finished tying the bandage and straightened.

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you stay?"

Remus, taken aback, looked up sharply. "I…I couldn't leave you…" he said disconcertedly, unsure why Harry asking him. "I mean…of course I stayed…"

"Because you had to?" asked Harry shakily, his eyes growing bright behind his smudged and broken glasses. Remus, still unsure of where this was leading, nodded slowly.

"Yes…" he began, then broke off in alarm as Harry whirled away with a low gasp, panting in low, heaving sobs as he tore feverishly at the makeshift bandages around his wrists. "Harry, what –"

Harry turned back angrily, tears streaming down his grubby face and the now half-ripped bandages turning a slow red. "You shouldn't have stayed!" he choked, scrabbling backwards as Remus tried to move forward. "Not because of me! You could have gone and instead you stayed and now they're going to hurt you too, and it'll be all my fault and, and…"

"Harry…"

"NO! You don't understand! You shouldn't have stayed just because of me! I'm just Harry! Just, just Harry…I'm not worth that!"

"_Harry_." said Remus sharply. Harry looked up at him, trembling as more tears slipped down his cheeks. Remus' face softened as he dropped down next to Harry, propping his chin up with his hand and forcing Harry to look at him. "I said something like that once." continued Remus gently, reaching over and brushing Harry's cheek with his sleeve. Harry flinched but didn't pull away. "A long time ago, when I was only about five years older than you, I said something very like that to your dad." Harry looked up quickly.

"And do you want to know what he said?" continued Remus, suppressing a smile as Harry's eyes began to shine.

"What?" whispered Harry, his voice still thick.

"He said that I was being selfish. He said that it was alright if the people who loved me wanted to help me. He said that I was worth it, Harry."

With a strangled sob Harry launched himself into Remus' arms, burying his head in Remus' shoulder and throwing his arms around his neck. "I stayed because I wanted to, Harry." said Remus gently, as Harry sobbed into his shoulder. "Because I wanted to, alright? And I'm not going to get hurt; I promise."

"Promise?" sniffled Harry, his head still buried in Remus' shirt. Remus smiled sadly.

"I promise." he repeated, turning his head slightly to look back at the bars of their cell. "I promise."

**ooooo**

The day had fully dawned by now, the light spilling reluctantly across the stones a bright golden-yellow and the oppressive dungeon air lifting slightly as a faint breeze drifted through the tiny barred window. Harry had fallen asleep again, the bandages around his wrists once more neatly tied as he lay propped up against the wall, Remus' overcoat tucked carefully around him.

Remus was lying on the ground next to him, his eyes half closed as he stared meditatively up at the small window. He turned as Harry stirred in his sleep, a sad smile creasing his face as he tucked his overcoat more snuggly around Harry.

"Well, well…how touching, Remus. And here I thought you didn't like the boy."

Remus froze, but the voice continued pleasantly, "I was listening last night, you know. Very sweet of you, telling dear little Harry stories about his father. I think the boy's well on his way to growing up to be like our lovely James, hmm. What a pity he won't be alive long enough for us to find out."

"What do you want, Abaddon?" said Remus at last, his voice icy as he pushed himself to his knees and moved slightly so that he was in front of Harry. Abaddon, a cloak of ermine fur wrapped around him, stared at Remus amusedly.

"Darling, you're so hasty." he murmured, tapping his for once ungloved fingers together. "Perhaps I just came down here to be nostalgic, hmm? To walk, as they say, down memory lane?" His handsome face broke into a smile as he looked at Remus. "To reminisce about old times?"

"What do you want?" repeated Remus stonily. Abaddon sighed and pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door to the cell and strolling inside.

"Remus, Remus…didn't I just _tell_ you?" Abaddon drew to a halt before Remus and pulled out his wand with a sigh. "I want to reminisce. Imperio."

Remus' entire mind was suddenly completely, blissfully blank. He stared at Abaddon through unfocused eyes, a small, peaceful smile playing across his face as a soothing voice echoed within his head. _Follow me, Remus…_ He wanted nothing more in the world than to listen to that voice, to do what it asked, to stand up and follow Abaddon out of the cell and down the narrow dungeon passageway to the solid stone wall…

Abaddon tapped the stone wall twice with his wand, whispering something under his breath – the wall shimmered for a moment, then fell away to reveal an ornate wooden door flanked on either side by imposing granite pillars. Clapping his hands delightedly, Abaddon tucked his wand back into his pocket and pushed the door open, his ermine cloak swirling behind him and Remus following dreamily in his wake.

The room was completely bare except for the rows of unlit torches that lined the walls. As one they burst into life the moment Abaddon snapped the door shut behind him, casting an eerie, flickering light in the otherwise pitch-black room. Casting his gaze around the room, Abaddon smiled contentedly and flicked his wand at Remus.

The contented feeling vanished as suddenly as it had come. Remus blinked dazedly, staring for a moment uncomprehendingly around the room – it was long enough for Abaddon, snapping his fingers and conjuring a set of manacles, to truss his hands together and shove him unceremoniously to the floor.

"I nearly lied, my dear." murmured Abaddon silkily, snapping his fingers again. A black leather whip materialized in his hand. "I want to torture you. I asked the Dark Lord, and He said it was alright." Apparently pleased with himself, Abaddon bent down and jerked Remus to his knees. Remus' breath was quickening but he didn't say anything. "I do hope you don't mind, darling."

Remus tensed suddenly, and as if on cue the whip snapped down through the air, lashing against his back and tearing a strip through his shirt. Abaddon frowned, and with a wave of his hand Remus' shirt disappeared and reappeared in a crumpled heap in the corner. "It is much more fun when you can see the blood, my lovely." he explained silkily, smiling dreamily as Remus let out a soft whimper of pain. "You can cry out all you like, Remus. The room is soundproof. Nobody will hear you." He laughed silkily and bent down slightly so that his face was inches from Remus'. "And I promise I won't tell."

The whip cracked down again, this time against Remus' bare skin. "I hope you're feeling nostalgic too, Remus. Bringing back old memories, hmm?"

Remus bit his lip as the whip sailed down, this time drawing a thin line of blood on his back. "Last time," hissed Remus through gritted teeth, jerking involuntarily as the whip came down again, "I survived. You fail–" Again the whip came down, and Remus broke off, crying out softly.

"Yes, I did fail, darling. It was truly most disappointing when our dear James and Sirius found you. But I'm not trying to kill you _now_…that would be silly, hmm? I'm just…reminiscing." Remus tried not to scream as another line of fire cut across his back. "Having a bit of fun, my dear. I'm not supposed to touch our other prisoner, you see. He's out of bounds." Abaddon giggled, and Remus, looking up through pain-fogged eyes, saw that his white fur cloak was splattered with red.

"Why?" spat Remus, trembling uncontrollably. Abaddon, raising the whip again, paused.

"He's much more important than you, my dear." murmured Abaddon at last, lowering his arm and allowing the whip to fall from limp fingers. It vanished before it hit the ground. "You know Sirius Black, hmm? They say –" Abaddon giggled again, falling to the ground next to Remus and drawing his wand from the inside pocket of his cloak, "– They _say_ that he's the Dark Lord's right hand man. The Dark Lord would rather have the prisoner be his right hand man though, my lovely. Sirius seems a bit indisposed for now, hmm?"

Remus, nearly bent over double as something warm trickled slowly down his back, glanced sideways. Abaddon was casually twirling his wand between his fingers, a thoughtful frown creasing his face.

"You know the prisoner, Remus." he said slowly, tossing his wand up in the air and deftly catching it again. "He's not normally the type to turn to the Dark Lord, but…" Abaddon paused contemplatively for a moment. "They say, my dear, that losing everything can do that sort of thing to people. Crucio."

"I don't think he'll turn." continued Abaddon morosely, ignoring Remus' screams, which were echoing and reverberating around the closed room. Remus had fallen to the ground again, shaking and convulsing spasmodically as he screamed uncontrollably. "He's too…noble…for that. But he nearly did turn, my darling. Nearly. I had him within my grasp and then…" Abaddon reached out as though to seize something from midair, then allowed his hand to fall to his side with a small laugh. "And then he was noble again! Imagine!"

Abaddon waved his wand again, and Remus' screams abruptly broke off.

"It did make me very sad, my dear. I can tell you that."

Remus was still lying pale-faced on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Abaddon frowned and kicked him sharply in the ribs.

"Get up, Remus!" he whined peevishly. "I'm not finished yet, you know." Reaching down with one slender, elegantly manicured hand, he grabbed Remus' forearm and jerked him to his feet, dragging him over to the wall and snapping his fingers with his left hand. Another set of manacles appeared, this time chained to the wall. Snapping the manacles shut around Remus' chafed wrists, Abaddon took a step back and smiled in obvious satisfaction. Remus was hanging limply from the shackles, his feet brushing the stone floor.

"Last time, Remus," he continued, pacing amiably in front of Remus and still twirling his wand casually, "There was a spell I used. Do you remember it?" Abaddon stopped pacing in front of Remus, smiling fondly. "You particularly disliked it, my darling. It was the last one I had a chance to use on you." His smile grew wider as he looked over at Remus. Remus' eyes were wide and terrified, and his breath was growing quicker and sharper. "It nearly made you kill James, I think. And it took them over a month to get it off of you. It was the only spell I've ever made up, my dear. Wasn't it lovely? Do you think, for old time's sake, we should use it again?" Abaddon raised his wand.

"No…," croaked Remus, straining frantically at the manacles and shaking his head feverishly. "Please…"

Abaddon considered him thoughtfully for a while. At last, sighing sadly, he lowered his wand. "He doesn't want you too hurt, my dear." Abaddon informed Remus dejectedly, tucking his wand back into a pocket of the velvet inside of his cloak. "So maybe some other time, hmm?"

Remus sagged forward and closed his eyes, though his breathing was still quickened.

There was silence for a few moments. Abaddon had resumed his pacing, his boot heels tapping sharply on the stone floor, and after a while Remus could hear him humming softly to himself.

"The little wolfie's chained to the wall, give him to Abaddon and the wolfie will bawl…"

Remus' eyes snapped open, and he managed to control his ragged breathing long enough to say loudly, "What do you want from me?" Abaddon ignored him.

"…And if the little wolfie refuses to cry, then give him to Abaddon and the wolfie will die…"

Shivering from more than the cold, Remus closed his eyes and tried again. "Why did you bring me here?"

Abaddon stopped humming and turned to look at him, an annoyed expression on his face. "Darling, I've said it thrice already. To reminisce. Silencio."

Remus snapped his mouth shut but lifted his chin defiantly, his golden-brown eyes flashing.

"We haven't done very much reminiscing though, hmm?" added Abaddon after a moment, his voice a contemplative murmur as he sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of Remus. "We haven't been very nostalgic. What memories should we recollect, do you think?" Abaddon propped his chin up with his hand thoughtfully. "How about the night our dear little James and Lily died, hmm?" Remus jerked suddenly, and Abaddon smiled sweetly up at him. "I wasn't there of course, but I think I know how it went."

His smile grew wider at the look on Remus' face. "James – our beloved little James – died first, you know. The Dark Lord killed him; poor James never had a chance." Remus' eyes were blazing furiously now. "You see, darling, he decided to fight the Dark Lord all by himself. To give Lily and Harry time to flee. Well, I don't think that worked out very well, hmm?"

Remus, still unable to say anything, was mouthing wordlessly at him. Abaddon's smile faltered for a moment. "And then he killed Lily, and then he tried to kill little Harry. Have you told the poor dear that yet? That he's the boy-who-lived?" Abaddon paused. "He died then. I thought He did, at least. He says He didn't, but it's all so confusing." Abaddon sighed. "Oh, don't look at me like that, darling. I just thought you might like to reminisce about that. You see, the other day I was thinking to myself what might've happened if poor James had had help." He laughed. "If Remus and Sirius had arrived in time to save James…sermanio."

Remus' throat suddenly became unstuck. "Sirius…betrayed them." he choked, his fists clenched as he strained against the manacles. Abaddon gazed up at him with polite incredulity.

"Hmm?"

"Sirius –"

"Oh yes, my dear, of course. I forgot." Abaddon eyed Remus shrewdly for a moment. Then he said softly, "Do you hate it, talking about your friends like this? Let me tell you more, then." He stood up and strolled over to Remus' side. He paused for a moment, then, without warning, slapped Remus as hard as he could across the face.

"James died believing that you were the traitor, my lovely." he continued, as though nothing had happened. Remus, his cheek bright red and stinging, looked up at him dazedly. "He died cursing your name. He never did believe…Sirius…was the traitor. It's funny, hmm?"

"You're lying." spat Remus before he could stop himself. Abaddon looked over at him coolly.

"I'm not lying, Remus Lupin." he said calmly. "Crucio."

This time Abaddon did not pace – he stood with his arms folded elegantly across his chest as he stared unflinchingly at Remus, who was writhing and twisting against the shackles, his voice hoarse and broken as he screamed uncontrollably.

Nearly a minute passed before Abaddon reluctantly waved his wand. Remus continued to scream even after the curse was lifted, finally quieting down until he was only gasping, hanging limply from the manacles as his chest rose and fell raggedly. He was drenched in sweat, the torchlight flickering against his bare skin as he raised ashen eyes towards Abaddon. Abaddon smiled thinly.

"I'm not lying." he repeated softly. "He thinks – thought – you were the traitor, Remus Lupin. He never thought it was…Sirius."

Remus closed his eyes and shook his head weakly. "You're…lying." he repeated faintly, almost too quietly for Abaddon to hear. "You couldn't…know…"

Abaddon took a sudden step forward and slapped him across the face again. Remus whimpered softly.

"He told me!" hissed Abaddon, slapping Remus again. "He told me, Remus Lupin!"

Remus looked up weakly, a familiar coppery taste in his mouth. "Voldemort?" he rasped uncertainly. Abaddon, about to strike him again, stopped abruptly.

"He told me." repeated Abaddon, his voice low but his tone mutinous. He thrust his wand back into his cloak pocket, fumbling for a moment…then he pulled out a slender silver dagger, which gleamed fitfully in the flickering torchlight.

"You see this, my dear?" he breathed, his gaze following the dagger as he swung it slowly around to press the point against Remus' exposed shoulder. Remus shuddered but said nothing. "You have lots of scars, I know, I see…but maybe one more from poor little Abaddon, hmm? Something for the wolfie to remember him by?"

Without warning Abaddon sliced roughly downwards with the knife, cutting jaggedly into Remus' arm and then scything wildly across. He finished with a third slash, swiping the knife away from Remus with a flourish and a cry that sounded as though it was torn between a wild laugh and a sob. "Something for the little wolfie to remember him by." he repeated breathlessly, wiping the bloodied knife absently on his cloak and sliding it carefully back into his pocket. "In case the wolfie needs reminding." He snapped his fingers again, and the manacles disappeared into the wall. Remus, unable to support his own weight, slid roughly to the ground.

Abaddon waited for a moment, but Remus remained on the floor, his chest – completely drenched with sweat – flickering in the torchlight. Abaddon made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and waved his hand choppily – Remus' shirt, still lying in a crumpled heap in the corner, disappeared and reappeared a moment later on Remus. Remus hissed softly but didn't say anything. Abaddon frowned, tucking a strand of long, chestnut hair behind his ear distractedly.

"Get up, darling!" he commanded loudly, prodding Remus sharply in the ribs. Remus glared balefully up at him.

"I – can't." he hissed through gritted teeth.

Abaddon clucked his tongue impatiently and yanked his wand out of his pocket, waving it edgily at Remus. "Mobilicorpus." he snapped, his left hand twitching impatiently at his side. Not waiting to see Remus rise slowly up in the air, Abaddon turned on his heel and stalked quickly out of the room, glancing fitfully from side to side as he entered the corridor and waited for Remus, his face a stony mask, to drift out after him.

The corridor was pitch-black now, the torches in the room dying out moments before the door snapped shut. The door and pillars shimmered, turning back into a plain, crumpling stone wall. "You really thought I was lying, didn't you, Remus?" Abaddon asked at last, his face agitated. He turned to look over his shoulder at Remus, who was floating a few feet off of the floor. Remus glared defiantly at him.

"You – were lying." he said coolly. Abaddon's face twitched as he abruptly stopped walking, fumbling for something with his free hand…there was a soft clink, and Remus could feel rather than see something swing open next to him.

"Such faith in your friends, my dear." whispered Abaddon finally, waving his wand. Remus fell heavily back down to the ground, and Abaddon delayed a moment before jerking him roughly upright again. "Do you think that it is merited? Do you think that he didn't suspect you? Do you think that he would die – have died – for you?"

Remus hesitated. Then slowly, deliberately, he answered, "Yes."

Abaddon laughed hysterically, throwing Remus forward into the cell and slamming the door shut behind him. "Then I believe, Remus Lupin, that you are wrong." he whispered furiously, turning on his heel and stalking as quickly as he could out of the dungeons.

Remus waited until the brisk tapping of his boot heels died away before exhaling slowly. He slowly, painfully pushed himself up to a crouch, biting down on his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he scooted hobblingly backwards until he was lying against a rough stone wall. Unable to suppress a small gasp as he eased his back against the wall, he turned his head sharply as he heard someone whimper in reply.

"Harry?" he called cautiously, forcing his voice to remain steady as Harry let out another strangled sob. "Harry, it's…alright, it's just…me…"

"R-Remus?" whispered Harry pitifully. Harry's voice was hoarse – it sounded as though he had been crying.

"It's just…me, Harry." Remus murmured again – his voice sounded as though it were on the verge of breaking. "It's alright…"

Remus could hear rather than see Harry shuffle towards him – he braced himself, and a moment later Harry, his hands outstretched, stumbled into him. With a strangled sob Harry collapsed, burying his head in Remus' shirt and throwing his arms around his neck as tightly as he could. Remus stifled a cry as his back rubbed against the stone wall, but didn't pull away – instead he pulled Harry onto his lap, holding him tightly and rubbing his back soothingly as Harry began to sob uncontrollably.

"You pr-promised." managed Harry at last, sniffling loudly and nestling against Remus' shoulder. "You, you said you w-w-wouldn't get h-hurt, and, and…"

"Shh." interrupted Remus soothingly, shifting carefully as he tried to find a more comfortable spot on the wall. "I'm – alright, Harry, I'm – alright…"

"N-no…,"

"I'm alright." said Remus gently, cutting Harry off and carefully easing Harry to his side. He could feel Harry trembling uncontrollably, and he draped his uninjured arm carefully around Harry's slender shoulders, pulling him closer. "They just – wanted – to talk – for awhile."

"They, they d-didn't…"

"I'm fine." said Remus as firmly as he could. Harry shuddered but didn't say anything.

At last, his voice a mere whisper, Harry murmured, "I th-thought they'd kill, killed you." He was trembling again, and Remus suspected that he was forcing himself not to cry. "I w-woke up, and you were, were gone…" Harry sniffed and buried his head against Remus' side, making Remus wince involuntarily. "I thought you'd died." Harry finished, his voice muffled.

"I'm not going to die." said Remus gently, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice steady. He hesitated for a moment, then added in a fierce whisper, "Neither of us is going to die."

His gaze drifted over towards where he knew the cell bars were, and his voice hardened. "Neither of us."

* * *

**A/N** - I promise, the Remus-torture wasn't in there simply for the angst factor! There was a reason for it, promise! 

Okay...I've been thinking about this, and I've decided that all of these review responses take up too much room. If you have a question or leave a long review I'll answer it, but I think it's going to take too much room to keep answering all of these reviews like this. _I love 'em_, I love every single one, but...I dunno. What do you guys think?

Next update - _The Dark Lord's Promises_. In which Severus has a chat with Dumbledore, James begins to realize the truth (with a little help from everyone's favorite evil overlord), and featuring a test of Lucius' nasal capacities. Coming soon!

Please review! Thanks!


	12. The Dark Lord's Promises

**A/N - **Late update, I know, I'm sorry! School, a distincitve lack of holidays, and isolation in the summer home are all to blame, and I promise I will try my very hardest to get the next chapter out to you sooner than two weeks.

Also, and this is **IMPORTANT** - I only had one (thanks, Tipix!) person tell me what they thought of cutting down on the review responses, so until I get more opinions on that they're staying. There was an a/n at the bottom of the last chapter about that, so if you have no idea what I'm talking about you can check there.

I hope this chapter was worth waiting for! Without further ado, I give you:

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 12 – The Dark Lord's Promises _

_August 5, 1987_

Severus Snape scowled, his black eyes flashing as he strode quickly back out of the castle and towards the small hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Smoke was curling out of a narrow chimney, nearly invisible against the gathering dusk, and Severus quickened his stride, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Kicking aside a pair of enormous muddy boots with a low snarl, he stalked quickly up the stone steps leading to the large cabin and, not bothering to knock, flung the door open and strode inside.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at a massive scrubbed wooden table, a bucket-sized teacup in front of him and a mildly reproving but not surprised look in his light blue eyes as he eyed Severus, who had slammed his hands on the table and was scowling at both the Headmaster and Rubeus Hagrid, the massive gamekeeper who, at the moment, looked too shocked to say anything.

Severus shifted his glare to Dumbledore, completely ignoring Hagrid as he ground his palms in the table and leaned forward so that he and the professor were barely a foot apart. "They captured them." he spat, his black eyes flashing as Hagrid sputtered indignantly beside him. "That idiot Lupin failed, and they captured both of them."

There was absolute silence.

Breathing heavily, Severus made to turn away, but before he could Dumbledore reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Hagrid, if you would be so kind as to leave us for a moment…" said Dumbledore calmly, his grip on Severus' arm tightening warningly when Severus growled and tried to pull away.

"I dunno, Headmaster." said Hagrid, his beetle black eyes glancing suspiciously between Severus and Dumbledore. "Maybe I should stay…"

"Hagrid, it is of the utmost importance that Professor Snape and I have a word alone for a moment." said Dumbledore lightly. "Rest assured I will call you back should the need arise."

Still grumbling to himself, Hagrid got to his feet and stomped over to the door, pausing once he reached it and glancing over his shoulder at his large boarhound, who was watching him despondently from his bed in the far corner. "C'mon, Fang." growled Hagrid – Fang whined but got obediently to his feet, trotting out after Hagrid. The door slammed shut behind them, and Severus and Dumbledore were left alone.

Dumbledore released his grip on Severus' arm but continued to eye him steadily. "You were saying?" he said evenly.

Severus snarled and pulled away from the table. He looked absolutely livid; his black eyes were flashing and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his side as he began to pace restlessly in front of Dumbledore.

"They captured them." he growled at last, his teeth gritted as a tic began twitching furiously in his cheek. "The Death Eaters captured Lupin and Potter." Dumbledore stiffened, but Severus continued ruthlessly, "Your bloody werewolf arrived just in time to get himself captured by the Dark Lord's madman, Abaddon Jugson – and do you know what they're planning on doing now, Albus? They're going to let Lupin kill the Potter brat." Severus laughed harshly and finally stopped pacing, sinking into one of the over-sized chairs surrounding the table.

Dumbledore's face had gone white, his light blue eyes darkening as he stared urgently at Severus over his half-moon glasses. "And you still can't tell me where they've taken them…" he mused aloud.

"It's a fidelius charm, I can't –"

"Yes, yes – quite understandable." interrupted Dumbledore, pouring himself another glass of tea. "You…you are sure they've been captured, Severus?"

Severus looked up at him incredulously, and Dumbledore added promptly, "I've had no word from Arabella that he was gone, and his aunt and uncle did not report him missing…"

"He was there." said Severus flatly, rubbing his left forearm unconsciously. Dumbledore nodded.

There was silence for a few moments. At last Dumbledore, swilling the dregs of his tea meditatively, looked up. "When?" he asked quietly.

"Six days ago." said Severus, suddenly looking very tired. He glanced sideways at Dumbledore. "On the brat's birthday. I would have come sooner but he was watching, I couldn't…" Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him, and his voice trailed off.

"And that leaves us four days…" mused Dumbledore.

"You can't go there." interrupted Severus dully, pushing his chair away from the table and getting stiffly to his feet. "The boy's dead in four days, and they'll either kill the werewolf or try and turn him." Turning around, Severus strode over to the door and yanked it open. He had nearly stepped outside when he spun quickly around. "There is another prisoner." he said coolly, his face perfectly impassive as he glanced over at Dumbledore. "I don't know his name, but from what I've learned he's one of yours they've caught and are trying to turn to the Dark Lord's service. Someone important."

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't believe anyone I know is missing…" he said slowly. Severus didn't say anything, but turned back around and strode out into the night, slamming the door shut behind him.

**ooooo**

The night sky above them was a deep velvety black, the stars invisible through a thick blanket of clouds. The only light shining onto the flagstone floor of the northeast tower of Malfoy Manor was the sickly, filtered light of the nearly full moon above, and the crenellated walls and the sculpted stone overhang which hid the large wooden door leading back into the Manor threw the top of the tower into jagged relief.

It was nearly midnight, and a crisp night breeze drifted to the top of the tower, carrying with it the sharp tang of the neighboring mountains and the soft scents of the sleeping forest. _Juniper, pine, rotting moss, the brisk smell of a small mountain stream…_ Lucius Malfoy shivered, pulling his heavily embroidered cloak tighter around himself and closing his eyes. The crisp air was almost drunken with the scents of the night, and he couldn't afford any distractions. Not now.

"My lord," he began carefully, opening his eyes again and glancing to his left, to where Voldemort – apparently not discomfited by the chilly night – was standing with his unnaturally long, white hands resting indolently on the tower's balustrades, "I am not sure I…understand the necessity of the plan's timing. Surely it would be better –"

"Your misgivings are ill-placed, Lucius." interrupted Voldemort lazily, watching through red, pupil-less eyes as a bat swooped overhead. "The plan was orchestrated and timed to perfection."

"The plan is not yet completed." said Lucius softly, turning away but watching Voldemort out of the corner of his eye. If Voldemort had heard him he gave no sign. "Master, should you leave for Azkaban in three days, as you plan to, then you will miss the werewolf's attack on Potter."

Voldemort waved one long-fingered hand carelessly. "A pity, yes, but it cannot be helped."

"If you were to delay the raid, even by two days –"

"The plan, Lucius," said Voldemort sharply, cutting Lucius off, "Was orchestrated to perfection. By not waiting two days, by raiding Azkaban on the night Remus Lupin transforms, we will return the morning after."

Lucius frowned, his face expressionless but his mind spinning. "Master, the point of the raid –"

"The point of the raid," interrupted Voldemort coldly, "Is to bring back my most loyal Death Eaters." Lucius shifted uneasily, and Voldemort gave a small laugh at his servant's discomfiture. "My most loyal servants, yes. That is part of the raid's purpose. The other part, the part for which timing is so essential, is Sirius Black."

Lucius started, and Voldemort gave another small laugh. A cloud in the sky above them had shifted, so that the moon was now no more than a dim haze of gold, but Lucius could still see Voldemort's red, cat-like eyes, staring unseeingly out across the grounds.

"Think, Lucius." he continued softly. "Sirius Black is as powerful as James Potter, but is not possessed of his despair. Before he would so much as consider joining my side he would need something to rally himself around. A standard, if you will. I will give him Harry's death."

"Show him Harry's body," whispered Lucius slowly, comprehension dawning across his pale, aristocratic face, "Harry's mutilated body, and promise to bring him the killer…and James Potter, you could…"

"They will thirst for revenge." said Voldemort with obvious pleasure, his breath coming out in small puffs of smoke. Lucius, his body shivering but his mind spinning feverishly, tightened his grip on his black embroidered cloak. "I will offer it to them, if they will bind themselves to me."

Lucius shook his head weakly, blood pounding through his temple as he regarded Voldemort in the nearly nonexistent light. "And the werewolf?" he asked with difficulty.

Voldemort shrugged dispassionately. "They will probably kill him." he said indifferently. "He is of little use to me."

Lucius wavered for a moment. "He is powerful in his own right, master." he pointed out hesitantly, his hands tingling within their soft suede gloves. "And he is their friend…" Voldemort silenced him with a look.

"They will kill him, and they will turn." said Voldemort confidently. "I will convince them that I did not kill him, I will bind them to me with an Unbreakable Vow, and in four days hence I will have two new powerful, devoted allies on my side."

Lucius risked a sideways glance, his breath slowly uncurling before him. "All of this trouble for two new servants, master? You do not need Black and Potter that badly."

"No." agreed Voldemort softly. "But Dumbledore does."

Lucius nodded and turned back to look out across the grounds, at the oblique lawn – inky black and perfectly still except for the occasional tinkling of a fountain – that sloped down into the looming forest. Fingers tightening around the raised and embellished edges of his cloak, Lucius drew in one great, shuddering breath –_ sage, loam, the earthiness of the clay at the riverbank, the heady, musky scent of the meandering river's small herd, now fast asleep…_

"There remains one unresolved problem, however." said Voldemort conversationally. Lucius drew his attention back to the dark lord, who was now leaning idly against the thick stone balustrade and regarding the twin serpents carved on the low stone overhang broodingly. "James Potter still believes Harry to be dead."

Lucius, unable to think of anything to say, remained silent. "He will not believe his son is dead if he does not know he is, at the moment, alive." continued Voldemort, pulling his hood up to cover his face and getting fully to his feet. "I will inform him tonight of the fact that his son lives."

Lucius nodded but made no move to follow Voldemort as Voldemort strode across the tower and under the overhang, pulling the wooden door open and turning around. He was thrown into complete shadow – Lucius strained to see, but the most he could make out were two shining, crimson eyes.

"You and Severus Snape will be left in charge of the Manor during the raid." said Voldemort coolly, his voice brokering no parley. Lucius nodded deferentially.

"Of course, my lord."

"You will see to it that Potter is dead in the morning." Voldemort went on, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Lucius. "Do not observe him at night – there should not be any distractions which might retract Lupin's attention from Potter."

Lucius nodded again. Voldemort eyed him impassively for a moment – then he turned around and pulled the door open, disappearing inside and closing it softly behind him.

Lucius, forcing his hands to unknot as he turned around, let out another shaky breath and tried not to shiver. His hand, gloved in the softest black suede, found its way to his throat, and he clasped the small pendant that hung there on a delicate silver chain desperately. Tightening his fingers around it until it dug into his hand, he closed his eyes and drew in another deep, steadying breath.

_Cedar, crushed ferns, the dankness of the riverside caves and the openness of the meadows. And, stronger than anything else now, the smell of blood._

**ooooo**

James pressed his face up against the rusting bars of his cell, his eyes screwed shut as he strained as hard as he could to make out the low, indistinct mumble of voices that drifted down the narrow passageway to his dungeon.

He was listening as hard as he could, focusing all of his concentration on trying to make out who the voices belonged to, and what they were saying…but so far all he had been able to determine was that they belonged to two people. The voices were just clear enough to tell him that, just vague enough that he couldn't tell whether they belonged to a woman or a man or a child or someone he knew – which exasperated him far more than any lack of voices could have.

Finally the gently murmur died away, and, defeated, James opened his eyes and slumped back.

He looked exhausted. There were dark, purplish-blue circles under his hollow eyes, and the thin tracery of veins could be made out under his paper-white skin. One of his arms, still set at an awkward angle, blossomed with dark purple bruises, and the other looked unnaturally red and swollen. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, matted with sweat and blood, and his collarbone could be seen peeking through the fraying neck of his shirt – if he had taken his shirt off every one of his ribs could be counted.

Pushing himself back against the wall, he closed his eyes again and allowed his head to droop forward to rest against his knees. He was exhausted – he'd hardly slept for almost five days now – but he refused to let himself drift off.

If what Abaddon had said was true, Harry had died five days ago. And it had been entirely his fault.

As if on cue he could suddenly hear a child's laughter ring out faintly, quickly silenced but still echoing through the passageway. Whether real or imagined he didn't know, and was too tired to care – a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but even as he smiled he could feel something warm trickle slowly down his cheek. It took him a moment to realize he was crying.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." he whispered, his voice stilted and stifled in the darkness that hung like a shroud over the dungeon cell. Pulling his knees tighter to his chest, he reached out and fumbled at his side for a moment – finally his hand closed around a smooth, narrow shaft of wood, and he let out a relieved sigh that sounded more like a dry sob. Bringing the wand up to rest between his knees, he let his fingers run over its smooth, memorized surface. "Lumos." he whispered hoarsely.

Nothing happened. He hadn't expected it to.

"Lumos." he murmured again, twirling the wand slowly between his fingers. "Lumos. Sonorus. Expecto Patronum."

He was no longer crying, but his voice was growing louder and louder. "Elecebra. Incendio." His voice had risen nearly to a scream, and suddenly he was crying again, his voice breaking with a mixture of fury, pain, and grief. "A, A-AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Nothing happened, and he lowered the wand again, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he pushed the tip to the side, away from his chest. "Lumos." he whispered again, lowering the wand gently to the floor and burying his head in his hands.

"My, my, James Potter…I do hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

James stiffened but didn't raise his head as there was a soft _click_ – Voldemort, completely hidden by the pervasive blackness, strolled leisurely into the cell, shutting the door carefully behind him and sitting down directly opposite James.

"I had hoped you would have realized that this cell is impermeable to magic by now, James." said Voldemort delicately, his scarlet eyes narrowing in amusement as James bristled silently. James growled deep in his throat, and Voldemort laughed. "Merely a precaution. You are, of course, free to move throughout the rest of the Manor as soon as you join –"

"I'm not joining you." said James harshly, cutting Voldemort off. "Never."

"Never?" repeated Voldemort softly, his catlike eyes considering James through the darkness. "Never is a very long time, James."

"Because of you I will _never_ see my wife again. I will _never_ see my son again. I will _never_ see my friends – my brothers – again." hissed James ferociously, burying his head in his arms so that his voice was nearly inaudible. "I'll _never_ see the Boyles again, or Joe or Ham or Judd…I'll _never_ see any of them again, and it's all your fault."

There was silence for a moment. And then, inexplicably, Voldemort began to laugh.

"Three months, James Potter." he said, his voice laced with cruel amusement as he stood up and began to walk leisurely towards James. "Over three months since you came back, and you still haven't realized anything."

"You killed Lily." whispered James, his voice shaking very slightly as Voldemort drew to a halt next to him. "And you killed Harry. And you couldn't have come for us if you hadn't already killed Sirius and Peter."

"And the werewolf?" Voldemort asked, a slow smile twisting across his face. "Did I kill him, too?"

James didn't answer, and Voldemort's smile grew wider. "I did kill Lily." he acknowledged softly, his crimson eyes emotionless as he stared down at James. "And I killed the old woman, as you saw. And the rest of them – the old men, the younger one – are dead." He paused for a moment, and James looked up dully.

"Peter's dead." he whispered hoarsely. Voldemort gave another small, amused laugh.

"Dead to you, doubtless. Which brings us to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

"You would have killed Sirius." repeated James, his voice deceptively steady. "And Remus…" He broke off.

"I must admit, James, sometimes your logic eludes me." said Voldemort amusedly. "I find you and your mudblood wife at Godric's Hollow, which proves beyond a doubt that the fidelius charm failed. And this in turn means that either I tortured the information out of dear Wormtail, or he willingly chose to relinquish it."

"Peter _never_ –"

"Regardless of Peter Pettigrew's choice, the fact remains that, in the end, it was he who betrayed you. And yet, despite all proof to the contrary, despite the sheer impossibility of it, you _still_ believe Remus Lupin was the traitor."

James could feel his mouth go dry. "I don't…" he began stiffly, then fell silent, unable to think of anything to say. Voldemort smiled.

"And this, in turn, brings us to Sirius Black, James Potter's best friend and godfather to young Harry." Voldemort stepped away from James, his fingers trailing idly along the stone walls. "I admit your reasoning behind Black's death is flawless – assuming, of course, that Peter Pettigrew did not willingly betray you." Voldemort paused, waiting for James to say something, but James was perfectly silent.

"Let us assume, for a moment, that Wormtail really was the traitor." continued Voldemort at last. "If this were the case then it is a reasonable assumption that Wormtail came straight to me with the information, thus making it pointless for me to capture and kill Black. Which would, in turn, mean that Sirius Black was still alive."

"You're lying." whispered James hoarsely, trembling as his mind began to spin feverishly. Voldemort laughed.

"Perhaps. Now, onto Harry." He moved away from the wall and went to stand in the center of the room, directly opposite from James. "Harry's story is both long and complicated, and you will forgive me if I don't delve into it right now. Suffice it to say that he is, for the moment, alive."

When Abaddon had said that to him James had become suddenly and inexorably filled with an unthinking, ferocious rage, and he had wanted nothing more than to tear Abaddon limb from limb, to hurt him until finally he admitted that he was lying, so then maybe he wouldn't be haunted, day and night, by thoughts of _"but maybe…". _Now James could feel nothing, nothing but a sudden, incredible weariness.

"Oh." he said impassively. "Why's that? Decided he might actually be of some use to you? Decided you could use him to make me join you?" James got slowly, tremblingly to his feet. "It won't work. I'll never join you, you bastard. Never. And Sirius would never have joined you, and Peter would never have joined you, and Remus…Remus would never have joined you, either. And I don't know why you came here and told me all of this, but it doesn't matter. Because, as long as I live, no matter what happens, I will never become one of your lackeys. And if you thought you could just come down here and try to tempt me to your side with Harry, then you can go straight back to Hell."

For a moment there was nothing but silence. At last Voldemort, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he regarded James, said softly, "I see. In that case, James, perhaps more…_substantial_ proof will be necessary." Walking back over to the door to the cell and pushing it open, he stepped back out into the passageway, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a small _click_. "It is, at the moment, nearly two in the morning on August sixth. In four days you will have your definitive proof that Harry James Potter is, indeed, alive."

James waited until the sound of Voldemort's footfalls fell away in the distance before sliding back to the ground, wearied beyond measure as he curled up tightly and closed his eyes. Tears stung the back of his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. Whether Voldemort had been lying or not he didn't know and, at the moment, didn't care.

There was a chance that Sirius was alive, that Peter was alive, that Remus was alive…that Harry was alive. And a chance was all he needed.

For the first time in nearly a week James Potter fell asleep, and when the dawn rose four hours later it found him with a slight smile on his sleeping face.

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**A/N** - There you go - a chapter ending without an evil cliffhanger. And you thought it couldn't be done... 

Thanks, everyone! I love you all!

Next update - _Messrs._ _Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_. In which the entire chapter is composed of fluffy, seemingly-plotless-but-not-actually-so Remus-Harry bonding fluff. Coming sooner than this latest chapter.

**And please, please, PLEASE - all of you who've added this story to your story alert list, or your favorite story list, or your C2...PLEASE REVIEW! Constructive criticism, praise, problems, anything - I'm having major problems with writing chapter 15, and as all of you who've written a story on here know, nothing eases writer's block like any sort of review. I need all the inspiration I can get, so I can't even begin to tell you how much I'd appreciate it if you'd review and just tell me what you think. Thanks! XOXO**


	13. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

**A/N - **Thank you so much for all of those reviews, everybody...they helped more than you know! Chapter 15 is starting to cooperate, and the revisions to Chapter 14 are coming along nicely. So, with any luck both of those chapters will be out on schedule...again, thank you so much for all of the reviews! -hugs-

This chapter is rather short, uncharacteristically fluffy, and not at all action-packed...but is does have some bearing on the plot, so please bear with me. Think of it as a respite before the adventure begins :)

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 13 – Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

_August 6, 1987_

The narrow strip of sky visible from the tiny dungeon window was fading to a rich, dusky purple, laced through with pink and orange and a dark, deep red, the color of blood.

Stretching, Remus shifted slightly and scooted forward so that he was lying stretched out on the grimy, uneven floor of the cell, directly in front of the window. He smiled slightly and glanced over when he heard Harry scrabble over to lay down next to him. Scooting to the side to make room for Harry, he put his arms behind his head and cushioned his head on them, suppressing a smile when Harry mimicked him, and turned his head to look more fully at Harry.

"Any story in particular you'd like to hear?" he asked softly, wincing slightly as his shoulder scrapped against the stone floor. Harry, his expression thoughtful, didn't answer immediately.

"Remus…" he began slowly, his emerald green eyes distant as he turned to look at Remus, who was watching him curiously, "When we were up in that big room, before we came down here, those two men…they called you a werewolf." Remus stiffened, but Harry continued naively, "I was wondering…why'd they call you that?"

Remus sighed and closed his eyes, allowing Harry to inch closer to him and throw the overcoat over both of them but making no move to answer Harry's question.

At last, opening his eyes again, he took a deep breath and turned his head slightly to smile at Harry. "I think I know what story to tell you tonight." he said quietly, as Harry curled closer to him. The sky outside the tiny window was now a deep, sultry blue, bordering on black, and a faint sliver of silver could be seen peeking through the bars.

"This is a story about four friends." he began, as Harry relaxed and dropped his head forward to rest against Remus' chest. "Four best friends. The four very best friends in all of the world."

"How'd you know?" murmured Harry, his voice beginning to grow drowsy. "How'd you know they were the best friends in the _whole_ world?"

"Because they were like brothers. The watched out for each other, and they trusted each other, and they did whatever they could to help each other." said Remus gently. Harry still looked doubtful but didn't press the point.

"They first met when they went to school, when they were only four years older than you." continued Remus. "The first one was a bit...wild. He had long black hair and gray eyes and dreadful table manners." Harry giggled. "He came from a family that didn't really like him all that much, and –"

"Like the Durselys." interrupted Harry solemnly. Remus' throat tightened.

"Yes." he said coldly. "Like them." Drawing in a deep breath and forcing a brittle smile on his face, he continued, "The second boy was also a troublemaker, like the first. He was also very smart, and very brave, and very loyal. He was also a very good athlete, and he loved quidditch more than just about anything in the world – except, of course, for his best friends and, eventually, his wife and son."

"What's quidditch?" asked Harry, looking up at Remus curiously.

"It's a magical sport." said Remus, after a moment's pause. "Remember I explained to you a bit about magic?" Harry nodded dutifully, sinking his head back against Remus' chest. "I'll tell you more about it later." Remus promised, tousling Harry's hair gently. "This second boy had short, very messy black hair, and glasses and hazel eyes. The third boy was a short, rather pudgy boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. He wasn't quite as brave or as smart as the first two boys, but he also was very, very loyal, and he was brave when it really mattered. He stuck by his friends through everything."

"And what about the last one?" murmured Harry. Remus smiled, his eyes clouding over slightly.

"The last boy was very shy. You see, he had a terrible disease, and he had to keep it a secret because he was afraid that, if his new best friends found out, they would abandon him."

"But if they were really best friends they wouldn't abandon him." mumbled Harry, closing his eyes.

"They wouldn't, but the last boy was scared nonetheless. And so he didn't tell them."

"What was his name?" asked Harry curiously, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. Remus hesitated for a moment.

"Moony." he answered at last. "The last one's name was Moony. And the first one's name was Padfoot, and the second one's name was Prongs, and the third one's name was Wormtail."

Harry frowned. "Those are weird names." he mused aloud. Remus laughed and eased his free arm around Harry's slender shoulders.

"They were nicknames they gave themselves." he explained quietly, a smile dancing across his face. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. And they were best friends, even though they were all about as different as it is possible to be."

"However, it is very difficult to lie to your friends. And the last boy – Moony – had to do just that, since he refused to tell them about this terrible, terrible disease that he had. He was so afraid that they would leave him the moment they found out the truth about him that he lied to them for a whole year. And he hated it. He wanted very badly to tell them the truth, because if they did accept him then it would be the most marvelous thing in the world, but he was so terrified of the thought of them leaving him that he just couldn't tell them. He had never had any friends before, you see, and he was frightened at the thought of losing Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs."

"So, for the first year he lied to them, and they didn't suspect anything. Then summer came and passed, and they were back for their second year of school."

"They were still friends?" interjected Harry hopefully. Remus smiled reassuringly.

"They were still the best of friends. This year, however, Moony was finding it harder and harder to keep lying to his friends about his disease."

"He still had the disease?" Harry said dejectedly.

"Yes, he did. This was the sort of disease that, once you get it, never really goes away."

"Never?"

"Never. And it was an awful disease, too, and Moony hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it except pray that his friends never found out about it, because he was certain that once they did they wouldn't want to be friends with him anymore."

"And did they find out about it?" asked Harry fearfully. Remus tried not to smile at the look of worry on Harry's face.

"Yes, they did. On a cold, rainy day in March, when all of the school was stuck inside and Moony was sitting all alone studying in the library, they confronted him and told him that they had discovered his secret."

"And?" whispered Harry fearfully, shrinking under Remus' overcoat.

"And after they told him that they knew everything, he told him that he understood. And he was very calm and very collected about, but inside his heart was breaking in half. He told them that he would leave that night, and that they would never have to see him again, and the only thing he asked them was not to tell anyone else his secret." Remus let out a slow sigh. "He hated keeping this secret, you see, but he had to. Even though it was tearing him up inside."

"They just let him go?" Harry said disbelievingly, his green eyes wide as he looked up at Remus. "But they were best friends, weren't they? Why did they care if he was sick?"

Remus brushed a strand of hair away from Harry's face with his free hand and gave a small smile. "No, they didn't just let him go. They were best friends, and they didn't care if he was sick. They knew that it wasn't the disease that made Moony what he was, even if he sometimes couldn't see that himself."

Harry beamed, his wan face lighting up as he looked at Remus. "So they stayed best friends?" he said excitedly, trying unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn. Remus shrugged the overcoat off of himself and tucked it more snuggly around Harry.

"Yes, they did. All through school and after."

"And are they still friends today?"

Remus, on his knees and making to push himself to his feet, paused.

_Sirius was laughing, his sharp grey eyes dancing as vaulted over their temporary snow wall and stuffed a handful of snow down the back of Remus' robes… James was staring seriously at him from over the rim of his glasses, the tip of his quill brushing his lower lip as the firelight glinted off his glasses… Peter was jumping up and down wildly, wrapped from head to toe in red-and-gold scarves, banners, and blankets as he cheered for another one of James' spectacular goals…_

"Yes. Yes, they are."

Harry's face split into a smile. Stumbling to his feet and following Remus over to the cell's right wall, he dropped back down to the floor and curled up next to Remus, his breath coming out in small, white wisps as he surveyed Remus through half-lidded eyes.

"What did their names mean?" he mumbled, closing his eyes as Remus threw the overcoat back over them.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, Harry. You look exhausted."

"I'm not tired!" protested Harry drowsily, failing to stifle a yawn. Remus raised an eyebrow. "Only a little tired." Harry amended quickly.

With a sigh and a rueful smile Remus relented.

"Although the disease Moony had was the sort that never goes away, his friends wanted very much to help him. And so, since they couldn't get rid of the disease, they did the next best thing – they helped make the disease more bearable."

"This disease – this terrible, terrible disease – was the sort that made you temporarily lose your mind. And so, to help Moony, they found a way to stay with him during those times when he was sick. They found a way to make sure that, even when he had lost his mind and was dangerous, they were safe. They become animagi."

"Ani-what?" asked Harry, straightening up slightly and attempting to look as alert as he could.

"Animagi. That's a type of magic, a very difficult type of magic. Animagi are wizards – and witches – who can turn themselves into animals on will. It takes a lot of time and is very, very difficult and dangerous to try and become an animagus, but Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs did it because it was the only way they could think of helping Moony. When Moony became sick and lost his mind once every month they could transform themselves into animals and keep him company, because he was only dangerous to humans."

"Animals…" Harry whispered breathlessly, staring wide-eyed up at Remus. "They could turn into, into snakes and cats and dogs and bears, and things?"

"An animagus can only turn into one animal, the animal that that witch or wizard most represents. That's where Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs got their names – from the animals they could turn into."

"What could Wormtail turn into?" asked Harry, his voice excited even though it was slurred with drowsiness.

"A rat."

"And Padfoot?"

"Padfoot turned into a dog. A giant black dog."

Harry paused a second, then whispered quickly, "And, and Prongs?"

Remus smiled slightly, his eyes distant. "Prongs could turn into a stag."

Harry broke into a smile again, closing his eyes and tucking his bare feet under him as he curled up on the floor next to Remus. "G'night." he murmured, as Remus' hand gently brushed across his cheek. Remus frowned.

"You don't want to know what Moony turned into?" he asked quietly. Harry turned his head slightly and blinked blearily up at him, the ghost of a cheeky smile flashing across his face.

"Moony turned into a werewolf." he said sleepily, closing his eyes again and resting against Remus' side. "But really he wasn't a werewolf. Really he was just Remus." Unable to say anything, Remus just stared blankly down at Harry as Harry shifted carefully at his side. "And I think, out of all of them, I liked him the best."

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**A/N** - Well, there you are. Kind of a cute chapter, I think... 

Lots of reviews that time, thank you! -hugs to all-

Next Update - _Azkaban_. SIRIUS! (Need I say more?). Coming soon.

**_PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	14. Azkaban

**A/N** - Yes, I am well aware that this chapter is almost a week late. Sorry, but I have been insanely busy and life has gotten extremely hectic and I have had NO time to write. Seriously. So I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter (Sirius is far too peppy, for one thing), but I figured you guys would rather have something now than a month from now and so...yeah. Here we are.

Also, and this is **IMPORTANT** - I haven't yet finished chapter 15, much less started chapter 16. I'd like to have chapter 16 at least mostly done before posting chapter 15, so while I'm 99.9 percentsure I'll have 15 finished on time I'm not sure if I'll have it posted on time. Sorry :(

Also, more possibly **IMPORTANT** stuff - in the beginning of this chapter, the two "people" Sirius is talking to are the dementors that are supposed to be guarding his cell, and the "game" he was playing was throwing rocks out the cell's window and trying to throw them as far as he could. So when he says he "missed", he means he missed the Sea and just hit the rocks immedietely surronding the prison...which isn't so good...and yeah. Hopefully that will avoid confusion.

That being said - sorry for the wait, thanks SO much for the reviews (seriously - THANK YOU!), please read and (hopefully) enjoy, and, of course, please review!

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The Track of a Storm

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 14 – Azkaban_

_August 9, 1987_

Sirius Black, convicted mass-murderer, traitor, and lifetime inmate of Azkaban prison, sighed in annoyance and kicked the masoned stone walls of his prison cell angrily. "Damn." he growled under his breath, running a hand through his mane of matted and tangled black hair and stalking back to his low, rickety cot bed. Flopping down atop it, he glowered up at the shadowed recesses of the prison's stone ceiling. "I missed it." he said loudly, raising his voice and tilting his head back to look through the bars of his cell. The passageway outside was completely black, the fading, orangish-red light coming through his cell's barred window failing to penetrate much farther than the cell bars. "I missed the bloody Sea, just in case you two cared to know."

"Missed!" he repeated, raising his voice to a shout. A ghost of a grin skittered across his face – which, though still handsome, had taken on a wasted appearance – as his voice echoed and re-echoed down the corridor. "Wouldn't have thought it, but there you are."

There was no answer, but Sirius continued, "You two should be pleased – that's my worst throw in a year, not counting that one that hit one of your friends in the head. It could probably go in the prison's hall of fame – Sirius Black, notorious convict, mass-murderer, traitor, and sole member of the Azkaban toss-the-damn-rock-into-the-sodding-bloody-Sea club, throws one and…misses. I can see it now. Headline of the Daily Prophet, that."

His only reply was the distant screams and wailings of his fellow prisoners. With a sigh Sirius flipped over so that he was lying on his stomach, his feet dangling off the end of the too small bed as he propped himself up on his elbows and eyed the darkness in front of his cell curiously.

"You know, if I didn't know better," he said slowly, squinting as he tried to peer through the darkness, "I'd say you two weren't even there…"

With a frown and a small shrug Sirius rolled off the cot, landing in a crouch and getting to his feet to walk back over to the small barred window set in the stone wall. Resting his arms on the window's narrow, inset ledge and propping his chin up on his arms, he stared out past the island's rocky shore to the perfectly still night outside. Not a breath of wind disturbed the icy-gray face of the North Sea, and waves lapped gently on the rocks instead of pounding and smashing against them. Sirius tilted his head up, and a small, bitter smile flashed across his face as he looked up at a tiny slice of the purplish-red evening sky.

"You know," he said loudly, still looking up at the dusky sky, "I think that your friends have been shirking their guard duties again. There's no one down at the docks." He dropped his gaze down, to where the very end of a rotting wooden pier stuck out from a hidden cave. A small rowboat was attached with a rope to the end of the dock, rolling gently with the waves. A hooded, gray-robed dementor normally stood vigil there, waiting for the boat that would bring another doomed prisoner to Azkaban…but tonight the dock was empty.

"I imagine their playing hooky would be frowned upon by management." Sirius continued, his voice sounding rather bored, although he continued to stare down at the end of the dock curiously. "Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly, glancing back over his shoulder at the pitch-black entrance to his cell, "Since – and you didn't hear this from me – it would make escape a walk in the park."

There was still no response, and Sirius frowned again. He squinted as hard as he could to the front of the cell – normally the darkness there would be thicker at night, the two dementors that stood guard there wearing it like a cloak. Tonight it was just darkness, nothing else.

"Alright…" Sirius murmured, his grey eyes – as empty and deadened as only Azkaban could make them – thoughtful as he began to walk slowly towards the front of his cell. "Alright…either you two have spontaneously taken a break for the loo or there is something definitely wrong…"

And there _was_ something wrong, he realized with a shock. He was in a good mood. _He had been smiling._ He had not smiled since…since before Azkaban.

The dementors sucked up all of his happy thoughts, leaving him to drown in despair with only the thought that _"I am innocent"_ to keep him sane. And yet tonight he had not sat curled up on his cot, repeating that mantra over and over again…tonight he had been throwing rocks.

Something was definitely, undeniably wrong.

"Look, I know we haven't exactly been best mates over the years," said Sirius, grasping the bars to the cell with emaciated hands and craning his neck trying to look outside, "But the least you could've done is say 'good-bye'…"

Other than the background screams and wails from its insane inmates, Azkaban prison was silent. Almost eerily silent…the screams were more subdued than usual, and there were no waves smashing against the shore or wind howling across the sea and sweeping into the prison, moaning through its corridors and cells. There was no dementor at the dock, nor had he seen any on the grounds…the two dementors that normally stood guard over his cell were gone, and – judging from the way he had been acting tonight – there were no dementors anywhere along his corridor, either.

This was either very good or very, very bad.

"Not that I don't appreciate this gesture of good faith and all," Sirius began loudly, backing slowly away from the front of his cell, "But if you knew you had the mind to leave you could've at least told me whether you were handing the prison over to the hands of the malignant and sinister or the good and benign…"

As if in answer a jet of blue-green light rocketed past the front of his cell, smashing into the massive stone walls at the end of the corridor and blasting through them, leaving an enormous, fire-blasted hole in its wake. Sirius swore loudly, stumbling back and nearly toppling over as he crashed into his cot.

"Right." he said bitterly, an ugly scowl creasing his wasted face. "Death Eaters it is, then."

Another blast of light shot past his cell, and Sirius backed quickly to the far corner of his cell, watching through narrowed eyes as spell after spell zoomed past him.

Harsh laughter and discordant singing began to drift up towards him, and Sirius' eyes widened. He whistled under his breath – from the sounds of it there were at least twenty Death Eaters coming towards him, possibly more.

He had no wand, and he couldn't disapparate while the wards were up – there was nothing he could do but wait for them to find him, or transform and hide in the blackness of the far corner of his cell and pray they didn't bother to check it more closely.

Grey eyes flashing, Sirius prepared to transform – and then stopped, realizing, with a sudden jolt, that there were _Death Eaters_ coming towards him. But that didn't make any sense; Death Eaters wouldn't raid Azkaban, they had no reason to, there was no _point_ unless…

"God _damn_ it…" Sirius screamed, his eyes suddenly igniting with a mixture of pain and absolute fury as he kicked the cot away from him, his clenched fists pounding ineffectuality at the hard stone wall. "Goddamn _bastard_, you're supposed to be _dead_…"

His voice trailed away into a scream of frustrated anger.

His chest rising and falling rapidly, he collapsed onto the cot and drew his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms.

If _He_ was here tonight, then Sirius knew he was going to die. There was no way he could hide from Voldemort, even if Voldemort didn't know about his animagus form. But he would know about that, of course…Wormtail would have gone back to him when he returned, and would have told him everything…

_But Voldemort never does anything himself, does he?_ Sirius thought after a moment, lifting his head slightly as the voices grew closer. _He just sends his Death Eaters…_

_…He'd have sent Wormtail._

Sirius began to laugh, his voice echoing within his cell and mingling with the sound of the Death Eater's laughter as he threw himself down on the cot and waited as the singing, the laughter, and the tramp of feet grew closer.

Five minutes later he heard the Death Eaters reach the break-off between his corridor and the next. The group stopped walking, and their laughter and singing slowly died off. Hardly daring to breath, Sirius leaned forward, straining to pick up every word.

"Which way now, rat?" growled a deep, throaty voice. Sirius could hear someone clear their throat nervously, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Er…not, not this way, I think." said Peter Pettigrew uneasily, his timid voice echoing in the high-ceilinged passageway. Sirius was unable to stifle a growl, low in his throat. "The other way…yes, this way. There's absolutely no one we need to free down this passageway – no, no one at all…"

"You're sure?" thundered the first voice. Sirius could almost see Pettigrew squeak and tremble in fright.

"Y-yes…although, m-maybe we ought to, ought to send tw-two people down there, just, just to be c-certain…"

"Right." snarled the first voice, which Sirius recognized distantly as belonging to Fenrir Greyback. "Right – you two, Yaxley and Goyle – make sure there's none of our people down there. If you find any bring them back to the manor. The rest of you with me."

All at once the singing burst into life again, the feet stomping off down the corridor opposite Sirius'. Swearing under his breath, Sirius rolled off of his cot and ducked behind it as two hooded and robed Death Eaters began to plod towards him, lit wands thrust out before them as, mumbling disconsolately, they began to peer into each cell.

One of them was a huge, hulking brute, his robes stretched skin-tight against him as he lumbered slowly down the passageway. His companion was a short, rail-thin man whose jerky, almost spasmodic gait made him look like a rather overgrown crow.

"We were supposed to be looking for Sirius Black!" he wailed to his massive companion, his voice raspy and whining. "Sirius Black, and I'm not seeing him anywhere! And if we don't find him…oh, dear. It's another one."

Sirius heard them stop at the cell two away from his – there was a low creak as they pulled the door open, and Sirius could hear them shamble inside.

"Oh, em…look here, you…," began the thin one nervously, clearly trying to ignore the prisoner's high-pitched, cackling laughter. "Er…just take this, right, and you'll be on your way…em…yes…"

The two hastily exited the cell as the prisoner's laughter abruptly broke off. Sirius frowned.

"As I was saying," continued the crow-like man tetchily, "I don't care what Wormtail says, I clearly looked at the map for this wretched place and I clearly saw clearly marked where we are, this very minute, standing – 'high security'. We're in the high-security area, Goyle, and that's where we'll be finding Black! But Wormtail, oh no, he says, Black will be – oh, here's one."

They had finally reached Sirius' cell.

Peering woefully at him through the bars of his cell, the smaller man – Yaxley – held up an enormous key ring and fumbled with it for a moment. At last, unlocking Sirius' cell, he and Goyle shambled in.

"Hello." he said dolefully, making a very distinct effort of avoiding Sirius' eyes as he reached into his robes and began searching for something.

"Hullo." replied Sirius agreeably, suppressing a grin as Yaxley started and looked up at him in barely concealed terror. "Nice night for a raid, isn't it?"

"What? Oh…oh yes, I suppose…em…"

"Are you Sirius Black?" thundered his massive companion, his gigantic, muscular arms crossed over his chest as he stared ominously down at Sirius.

Sirius blinked.

"Sirius Black? No, I don't think so." he said breezily, watching with mild interest as Yaxley began to feverishly empty his pockets, still looking for something. "I mean, there is something of a passing resemblance, yes, but in all honesty I think he's much better-looking than me. I mean, look." Sirius jumped to his feet and spread out his arms, performing a pirouette and purposefully crashing into Yaxley, who squeaked in terror and jumped back.

"You see!" said Sirius vehemently, pointing a finger first at Goyle, and then at himself.

Now it was Goyle's turn to blink. "See what?" he began, but was cut off as Yaxley squeaked hurriedly, "Yes, yes, yes! We see, and, em…"

"I am an ungraceful lout of a fellow!" Sirius exclaimed triumphantly. "Sirius Black, bless his soul, is…as graceful and mild-mannered as a, as a…"

"As a swan?" suggested Yaxley tremulously.

Sirius stared at him for a moment. "Er…right. A swan. I guess." he said, recovering valiantly. He flopped down onto the cot, managing to avoid sitting on the rather unpleasant assortment of items Yaxley had dug out of his pockets. "So you see, I'm not Sirius Black. I am, in all honesty and truthfulness, a Death Eater. Just on the off chance that you couldn't already tell."

"But you're not…em…you know…_insane_." whispered Yaxley, his claw like hands twitching at his side.

"As a matter of fact, I am." Sirius replied seriously. "You're just hallucinating and imagining I'm perfectly lucid. I'm sure it'll wear off eventually."

"Oh, yes…em…right…" mumbled Yaxley, clearly not taking in a word Sirius was saying as he dug feverishly through his small pile of objects. "Oh dear, oh dear oh dear oh dear…"

"The portkey not there?" Sirius asked sympathetically, sliding the small black disc he had seen Yaxley give the other prisoner to the nearest corner of the cell, which was pitch-black and littered with other small rocks and pebbles. "How tragic…you know, you could always bring me over to Wormtail, I suppose he'd have a spare or two…"

"But Fenrir will be furious!" wailed Yaxley, his eyes – so pale blue they looked almost white – welling up with tears. "The freed Death Eaters are supposed to go _straight_ back to the manor, and if Fenrir thinks I _dawdled_, he'll be _furious_!"

"Tell him I nicked it." said Sirius helpfully. Yaxley gave another wretched moan.

"Apparate." boomed Yaxley's gigantic companion unexpectedly. Sirius started – Yaxley jumped backwards and stared up at him in fright, still sniffling.

"I suppose…" he began awkwardly, sidling slowly towards Sirius. Sirius backed away quickly, his plan unraveling before his eyes.

"Eh…I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you. I've a terrible head for apparating, me. And I'm dreadfully out of practice. Because I've never done it before. Honestly. I'm liable to splinch myself."

"We could just do side-along apparation, em…yes, that would work, side-along apparation, and then I could bring you back to the manor and Goyle could keep looking in all the cells and then Fenrir would never know, and –"

"But you can't apparate at all in here…" Sirius said desperately, cutting Yaxley off. "Look, could you _please_ bring me to Wormtail?"

"Oh, you can apparate now, we took the wards down, and Wormtail said he wasn't to be bothered, so this is probably best…em…"

"Wormtail and I used to be best mates." said Sirius pleadingly, now backed fully up against the wall. "I know he'd love to see me again."

"No, I don't think so." said Yaxley definitively, giving an odd hopping step forward and grabbing Sirius' arm. "And off we go-o-oo…!"

Before Sirius could pull away there was a loud crack, and the walls of his prison cell were gone.

It felt as though he was being siphoned through a narrow tube, wrung out and squeezed together all at once. His eyes felt as though they were being pulled to the back of his skull, and his insides felt like they were being twisted and turned inside of him…and then, just as suddenly as it had come, it was all over.

Sirius staggered to his feet, pushing Yaxley roughly away from him as he cursed loudly. He was no longer in Azkaban prison – instead he was in what looked like an enormous cathedral, lit with blazing braziers and crowded full of the former residents of Azkaban prison.

"Em…yes, here we are." said Yaxley brightly. "And…em, good-bye…"

There was another loud crack, and Yaxley was gone.

Sirius looked around slowly, unconsciously bending his knees slightly so that he wasn't apparent over the heads of the crowd. The hall was packed full of freed Death Eaters – most of them were staring around in bewilderment or with vacant eyes, although a few were laughing and even singing gleefully. All of them were dressed in tattered grey robes, and their hair was tangled and matted. Most of them looked emaciated, and their eyes all had the same dead look.

And then, quite suddenly, it hit Sirius like a blow – _he was free_. Azkaban was gone, the dementors were gone, his cell was gone, all of it was gone…he could think happy thoughts again; he could think about, about…James. He could think happy memories about James, and about Lily and about Harry and about Remus…he could think about the good times as an auror, he could think about Hogwarts again, all of it was coming back to him in a rush, and he could feel himself grow weak-kneed and drop heavily to the ground. His mouth was hanging slightly open and he was crying, although it took him a moment to realize it, but he made no move to stop the sudden onrush of memories and feelings.

For what felt like hours – although in actuality was closer to five minutes – Sirius just sat there, drinking it all in. Nobody was paying him any heed – the rest of the freed prisoners were too caught up in their own memories to pay anyone else any attention. At last, forcing himself back to the present, Sirius wiped his eyes hurriedly and pulled himself to his feet, still bending down slightly and trying to remain inconspicuous. Most of the freed Death Eaters here had known him, or at least known of him, and he doubted any of them were as dim as Yaxley and Goyle.

Edging to the very fringes of the hall, away from the roaring light cast by the braziers, Sirius allowed himself to sink into a crouch and close his eyes. He was exhausted, he had no idea where he was, he didn't know how he would escape, or even where he would go if he did…

Weariness overriding his other concerns, Sirius' eyes drooped lower and he allowed himself to drift off.

**ooooo**

"Aw, little Si-ri-us is asleep! Wake _up_, Si-rius!"

Sirius' eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision blurry and distorted as a breathy voice giggled again in his ear. "How was your nap, sleepy-head? You were napping, and the moon hasn't even come out yet! That was rather silly, Si-rius!" It took Sirius a moment to realize that someone was gently stroking his cheek, and that a lock of black hair was brushing against his nose.

"B-Bella?" choked Sirius, scrabbling backwards and nearly crashing into the stone wall. His cousin, her face gaunt and wasted and her once rich dark hair dirty and matted, brought her lips together in a pout and sidled closer to him again.

"Aren't you glad to see me again, Si-ri-us?" she whined, her voice rasping slightly as though she had not used it in a long, long time. "Your favorite cousin?"

"I'm not – you're not – how…?"

"We're free, Sirius!" she shrieked suddenly, lunging forward and grabbing Sirius' forearm with a vulture-like grip. Jerking him roughly to his feet, she grabbed him around the neck and performed a rather unsteady twirl. "And the Dark Lord shall become all powerful once again, with me at his side!"

"_Shut up_, Bella, _shut up_…" Reaching up and ripping her hands away from his neck, Sirius shoved Bellatrix Lestrange roughly away from him and ducked back to the edge of the hall. Bellatrix staggered and nearly fell, then looked up at him through a curtain of tangled hair with her eyes narrowed.

"Bastard!" she hissed, her heavily-lidded eyes narrowing further as she began to back slowly away from him. She looked like a walking skeleton. "You do not belong here, at the moment of the Dark Lord's triumph! There are dungeons here, dungeons that your traitorous flesh should feel honored to rot in…I will lock you up myself, and when the Dark Lord returns I shall tell him that I single-handedly imprisoned you, the blood-traitor…"

Sirius watched in alarm as she let out a maniacal giggle and whirled around, throwing her head back and cupping her hands around her mouth. "WORMTAIL!" she screamed, her voice rising above the low din in the hall and echoing around the cavernous ceiling.

For a moment all talking stopped – then all at once it returned, twice as loud and with an increased fervor. Bellatrix swiveled back around, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she stalked back towards Sirius. "I hope, my dear cousin," she hissed through gritted teeth, noticing the sudden, murderous look in Sirius' eyes, "That you weren't enjoying freedom too much." She stopped less than a foot from Sirius. She stared at him for a moment – and then all of a sudden her fist swung forward, straight into Sirius' face.

Sirius' head slammed back against the stone wall. Blackness slowly overpowering his vision, he blinked blearily up as Bellatrix moved to stand over him. "Good night." she whispered breathlessly.

Sirius' eyelids dropped, and unconsciousness claimed him.

**ooooo**

"Ar-are you sure this, this is w-wise, Bellatrix?"

"Do you dare to question me, you traitorous filth?"

"The D-Dark Lord…"

"I am the Dark Lord's most faithful, his most valued Death Eater. I will lock up this blood-traitor; let him rot in the dungeons for the Dark Lord's pleasure…"

"I t-told you, the dungeons are, are all f-full…"

"Then we will lock him up with one of the other traitors! With the werewolf, perhaps, so then he will die…"

There was silence for a moment, and Sirius, his head still throbbing painfully, began to groggily open one eye.

"Maybe he won't, won't die." mumbled the voice that Sirius vaguely recognized as belonging to Peter Pettigrew.

"What did you say!" snapped the other voice.

"Maybe he won't die." repeated Peter, his voice louder and steadier this time.

The other person – _Bellatri_x, Sirius realized groggily – growled and tightened her grip on Sirius' arm, her long, yellow nails gouging into his forearm. "Of course he will die! How could he survive, trapped with the werewolf all night?"

It was a moment before Peter spoke. "…I don't, don't know." he mumbled at last, his pudgy fingers scrabbling for a tighter hold on Sirius' arm as he and Bellatrix dragged him down a set of low, earthy steps. "Never mind."

"With our assistance, the Dark Lord shall become more powerful than ever." Bellatrix declared loudly, her voice tinged with insanity as she yanked on Sirius' arm and half-ran down the rest of the steps and out of the tunnel-like passageway. Sirius, still only half-conscious, moaned as he stumbled after her, falling over and being jerked roughly up again.

Bellatrix's leering face swam into his vision. "Are you awake, Si-ri-us?" she asked, her voice sing-songy even as she dragged him down the lightless dungeon corridor. "My little, filthy friend here is helping me bring you down to the dungeons, Si-ri-us. _And_ he seems to think there's some way you could survive a werewolf attack! Ha!"

Sirius tried to say something, but all that came out was a low moan. Bellatrix laughed, giving a particularly vicious tug on his arm as she strode down the passageway.

"W-Wormtail?" mumbled Sirius at last, nearly tripping over one of the loose stones littering the corridor. He could feel Peter recoil at his side.

"Y-yes?" whispered Peter tremulously.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to kill you."

Peter whimpered and seemed to shrink against the side of the passageway as Bellatrix stopped abruptly and snatched something from Peter's hand.

"I n-never, never told them." Peter whispered under his breath, leaning forward so that Bellatrix couldn't hear him. "And you…y-you're not supposed to b-be here, but I thought, m-m-maybe you could save every, everyone…they don't kn-know anything about us, about the, the animagus…"

He was cut off as a wild, tortured cry suddenly rang out from the dungeon cell before them. A jet of blue light shot out of the wand Bellatrix had snatched from Peter, and the barred door to the cell flew open. With a maniacal laugh Bellatrix ripped Sirius away from Peter and shoved him headfirst into the cell, slamming the door shut behind him and sticking her face through the bars. In the white light from the full moon that was just now rising outside her eyes looked as though they were gleaming with madness. "Nighty-night."

With another maniacal laugh she darted away, back down the corridor and out of sight. Peter lingered for a moment more – then he too scurried away, leaving Sirius along with the person who was gasping and crying out in pain behind him. Very slowly, Sirius turned around.

* * *

**A/N** - Duhduhduhn...so much for not ending with evil cliffhangers, heh. Poor, poor Sirius...he's in for a rough night... 

Alright, since I know you guys are probably going to want to stone me to death for ending the chapter like this, may I just say in my defence that this was really the ONLY place to end it without making this chapter insanely long. So please don't kill me... :)

Next update - _Father and Son_. In which James and Harry (finally) meet, the full moon (finally) happens, and more bad things happen to Sirius. Maybe. At the moment unfinished, so hopefully coming soon.

And now, remember - **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	15. Father and Son

**A/N - **Well, here you go - a bit of pre-Thanksgiving cheer for y'all. An early update. Hurrah!

Alrighty - as I'm sure most of you know by now, fanfiction(dot)net has made it officially against the rules to post review responses. So, I've removed all of the responses from all chapters previous and there aren't any in this chapter, either. If you left a signed review, then you'll get a review response via the new "reply" option - if you left an unsigned review, then sorry! So, from now on if you want a reply to your review then leave a signed review or leave your email in your review. Thanks!

ALSO: a few people had a question about where Sirius ended up at the end of last chapter. HE WAS IN REMUS' CELL. Unfortunately, the cliffhanger ending of last chapter doesn't get resolved until the chapter after this. Heh. Oh, one more thing - I know I said at the end of the last chapter that Sirius was going to be in this chapter...but, he's not. His little cameo just didn't fit. Don't worry, though - he has a starring role in the next chapter.

So, anyways - ENJOY!

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**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 15 – Father and Son_

_August 9, 1987(earlier that day)_

His head leaning back against the wall, his right hand resting lightly on Harry's shoulder, Remus watched through half-lidded eyes as a slow cascade of dust filtered through the golden light shining from the small barred window set high up into the cell's wall. The air inside the dungeon was growing colder and colder as the sky outside grew steadily darker – at last the only light falling through the small window was a dark blood red, the tiny, swirling dust motes invisible against the lengthening shadows. His head pounding relentlessly and his hands trembling, Remus finally dropped his gaze down to the still slumbering boy lying next to him. Mustering a small, stiff smile, he gripped Harry's shoulder and shook him gently.

"It's just me." he said soothingly, pressing gently down on Harry's shoulder as, a look of panic on his face, Harry's almostoverlarge emerald green eyes flew open and stared up at him in half-asleep terror. "It's just me, Harry…"

For a moment Harry, his face chalk-white, just stared soundlessly up at him – and then his shoulders dropped and he lowered his gaze, his cheeks flushing.

"Nightmare?" asked Remus sympathetically, almost unconsciously raising his hand to brush a fringe of black hair away from Harry's forehead. Harry nodded, biting his lower lip and glancing almost embarrassedly up at Remus.

"Yes." Harry said softly, slowly relaxing against the dungeon wall as he curled up more closely under the worn overcoat. For a moment he didn't say anything at all – Remus, thinking that the subject was closed, opened his mouth to speak when Harry added in a sudden rush, "I, I dreamed you d-died. Th-that evil man – A-Abaddon – k-killed you, and he m-made me watch, and, and then I w-woke up but I didn't r-r-realize it, and you were, were there, and I d-didn't…I didn't…"

Feeling slightly sick, Remus wrapped his right arm around Harry's thin shoulders, his eyes closed as he waited silently until Harry's sobbing slowed. "I'm right here, Harry." he said at last, opening his eyes again but staring unseeingly into the darkness in front of him. "That was just a dream…I'm not going anywhere; I'm still right here…"

Harry, still sniffling, shook his head. "N-No, you _were_ right there, only you had, you had d-died, and I th-thought…"

"That I was a ghost?" said Remus gently. Harry shook his head.

"No…a, a zombie." he whispered at last, ducking his head at the last word as though he were afraid Remus would laugh at him.

Remus, however, didn't say anything at all. After a moment Harry lifted his head, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes as he looked abashedly up at Remus. "But people can't come back from the dead, can they." he said quietly.

Trying not to wince as his head gave a particularly painful throb, Remus shifted so that he was sitting face to face with Harry. "Harry," he began slowly, unsure of what it was, exactly, that he was trying to say, "When a witch or wizard dies there are…ways of making them look like they've come back. But people can't really come back from the dead – not like how they were before they died…"

Harry seemed to sag. "You're sure?" he mumbled, his slender fingers twining themselves around a loose strand of thread in the overcoat's collar. He looked up quickly, his emerald green eyes staring anxiously up into Remus'. "I mean, I thought, maybe if you wished enough and were good enough then they could come back and see you…I mean, if you were good enough, maybe they would _want_ to see you…"

Remus realized with a sudden jolt that they were no longer talking about Harry's nightmare. "Harry, if your parents could they _would_ come back and see you again." he said gently, both his hands resting on Harry's shoulders as he ducked his head so that he and Harry were eye-to-eye. "I know they would, because they loved you – they still love you – very, very much. But they can't, Harry. They just can't."

"You're sure?" whispered Harry, wiping his eyes quickly and staring almost pleadingly at Remus.

Remus opened his mouth to reply, and then hesitated. Severus' words to him that day in Dumbledore's office were drifting back to him: _It raises the drinker, and whoever's blood the drinker shares._

"I'm…yes. I'm sure." Remus replied at last, his voice sounding distant in his ears. Shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, he pushed himself up to a kneel and lifted his head to stare out the small barred window. The light shining through the bars was a deep, almost inky red – the sun hadn't set just yet, but he didn't have much time left.

"Remember when I was telling you that story the other night? The one about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?" Harry nodded slowly, looking up at Remus confusedly.

"Yeah…"

"You figured out that Moony was a werewolf, Harry. You figured out that Moony…that that was me." Harry nodded, his face hidden as he huddled against Remus' side. Remus swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to keep talking.

"Harry…you said you didn't mind that I was a werewolf, you said that that wasn't me, but – Harry, I would never do anything to hurt you if I could help it, but it's hard…it's impossible…I can't think, Harry, when I turn into a, into a…"

"A werewolf." finished Harry, his voice muffled as he remained pressed up against Remus' side. Remus nodded, forcing back a choked sob as the sky outside grew darker and darker.

"Harry…tonight I'm going to change, and I won't recognize you and you…you won't recognize me either, alright? And I might hurt you. I might…I might…"

"You won't kill me." said Harry softly, tilting his head back slightly to look up at Remus. His enormous green eyes looked unnaturally sad – too sad to belong to a seven-year old – but when he looked up at Remus there was a look of such trust and love on his face that Remus almost wanted to cry.

"I would, Harry." he whispered instead, the words coming out strangled as he brought up one shaking hand to rest on Harry's thin shoulder. "God, I would…"

"No!" Harry insisted, his voice rising to a hoarse shout as he shoved Remus' hand roughly off of his shoulder and stumbled to his feet, backing quickly to the front of the cell. "You wouldn't!"

"Harry, it won't be me." Remus said entreatingly, getting to his feet and walking slowly towards Harry. Harry gave a muffled cry and pressed his back against the bars of the cell – Remus stopped walking, and when he spoke his voice was one of forced-calm.

"Harry, if you stay here I'll kill you. You have to leave, Harry. Just for tonight. Slip through the bars and go down to the cell at the end of the passageway – you'll be safe there, and then you can come back tomorrow…"

"I c-can't…"

"You have to, Harry. I'll kill you if you stay here, and I could never live with myself if I did that."

"But you _won't_ –"

"Harry, I _will_. I'll kill you. You have to understand that, please." Remus raised Harry's chin with his hand, forcing him to look at him. "The one thing Voldemort and Abaddon and all the rest of them want is for you to stay here, because they know if you stay here…they know you'll die, and that's what they want. That's why they let me stay with you, because they knew I'd kill you. But I won't let that happen, Harry. If I killed you…I would never forgive myself. Never."

"My dad wouldn't of left." said Harry stubbornly, his face streaked with tears.

Remus shook his head helplessly. "Harry, that was different…Your dad could defend himself, you can't…"

Harry lowered his gaze, sniffing loudly and wiping his eyes hurriedly with the back of his hand. "B-but, I'll be…I'll be alone…" he whispered, looking back up at Remus through bright eyes. Remus could feel his heart twist inside of him.

"No, you won't." he said softly, forcing a small smile onto his face while inside he prayed desperately that he was doing the right thing. "There's…someone else in that cell."

"I don't know exactly who," Remus added quickly, as Harry glanced up at him anxiously. "But it's someone I know, Harry." _And if you lied to me, Abaddon,_ Remus added silently, _I swear to God I will wring your filthy neck._

"You're sure?" whispered Harry tremulously. Remus hesitated.

"Yes." he answered at last, wincing as his head began to throb again. "You have to leave now, Harry…"

"I don't want to." Harry whispered. There was no trace of rebelliousness in his voice now, only resignation.

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, forcing back a hiss of pain as his hands began to spasm convulsively. Clenching them tightly, he opened his eyes again and forced a taut smile. "I'll make you a deal." he said, his voice low enough to disguise the fact that it was breaking. "You do this for me, just for tonight, and when we get out of here…when we get out of here I'll take you away from the Dursleys. I'll bring you to live with me."

For a moment Harry just stared at him, the only expression on his face one of pure astonishment. Slowly an enormous smile began to spread across his face, but before he could say anything Remus put a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to look up at him. "Harry, you have to promise me that no matter what happens – no matter what you hear – you'll stay in the other cell until tomorrow. _Don't come back until tomorrow, Harry_. Promise me."

Although it was cold in the dungeon he was beginning to sweat, his hands trembling as his breathing grew more ragged. "Promise me!" he hissed, the shadows in the room slowly disappearing as outside it grew darker and darker. Harry nodded quickly, his smile slowly faltering as Remus stumbled backwards, his chest rising and falling rapidly but his face growing suddenly pale. His breath was coming in short gasps, and slowly he drew his gaze away from Harry as he brought his hands up in front of him. His fingers were slowly lengthening, his veins growing taut beneath his skin as his nails grew and curved into long, arched claws.

"Go, Harry." he whispered. He looked up, his eyes meeting Harry's. "_Go!_" he snapped again, when Harry made no move to leave.

Harry just stood there, his back pressed up against the bars of the cell as he stared at Remus. Finally he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and, shooting an apologetic look at Remus, darting past him and snatching the overcoat from where it lay on the floor. He clutched it to his chest as he stumbled backwards, his eyes never once leaving Remus' face.

"Go." whispered Remus, more to himself than Harry as he slumped forward, his eyes closed and his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he began to slowly rock himself back and forth. He could hear Harry stagger to the other end of the bars, where the stone wall had begun to give way and there was just enough space between the rusted bar and the crumbling masonry for the seven-year old to slip through.

Finally Remus looked up, the whites of his eyes disappearing into a deep, tawny gold. Harry was staring at him through the bars of the cell, reluctant to leave even though his bright green eyes were wide with fright. Remus forced a strained smile, although the room was now so dark he doubted Harry could see him. "Don't come back until tomorrow." he whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp as he felt the skin on his chest ripple and undulate beneath his arms. Harry nodded but didn't say anything, his face pale and tear-streaked as he just stared at Remus.

At last Harry managed a small, shaky smile, a few tears slipping down his face as he backed slowly away from the cell, into the darkness of the corridor. "Good night…" he whispered. Remus didn't answer, just stared at Harry as he turned hastily and fled down the lightless corridor. Within moments the darkness and the silence enveloped Harry, and Remus was alone.

He closed his eyes, shuddering as he finally let the wolf take over.

**ooooo**

While it had still been light out James had counted the stones on the right wall of his prison cell. When, at number 846, it had become too dark to count, he had closed his eyes and tried to sleep – but sleep was impossible. And when sleep had refused to come he had just sat there, his eyes half closed and his back leaning against the wall. Days had blended into weeks had blended into months, and now there was nothing left to do but wait.

His fingers tapping mindlessly against the stone floor, he closed his eyes and began to hum under his breath. It was an old muggle ditty, and he knew the tune but could not, for the life of him, remember the words. He crooned it anyway, opening his eyes as the first light from the full moon outside began to spill past the narrow window of his cell and into the dungeon proper. He stopped humming and tilted his head slightly to watch as the silvery, almost liquid moonlight began to creep across the floor, towards the bars at the front of the cell.

"You were right, Remus." he said softly, his voice hoarse as he drew his legs up to his chest, his eyes following the light as it crept closer and closer towards the front of the cell. "All of those times you said Sirius and I were nothing but great, thick-headed prats – you were right." He suppressed a snort of sardonic laughter, lowering his voice as he added in an aside, "And I promise, one day I'll say that to your face." His smile faded as he sighed and dropped his head down to rest on his knees, still watching through slitted eyes as the silver-white moonlight reached the cell bars. "And I'm sorry." he said softly, brushing a strand of matted jet black hair away from his gaunt face and raising his eyes to stare at the darkness past the cell's bars. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

James froze. Maybe it was his own imagination, maybe he was finally going mad after months of being imprisoned here with no one but the occasional house elf and Abaddon Jugson for company, but he could have sworn he had just heard a _child's_ voice outside of his cell, a child's voice which, for some reason, sounded eerily familiar.

"Why are you sorry?" the voice asked again, and James could feel his heart – which a moment ago felt as though it had been turned to lead – begin to hammer painfully fast in his chest.

"Who – who's there?" James called hoarsely, scrambling to his feet and advancing slowly towards the front of the cell. He could hear the person, whoever it was, scamper backwards, and he stopped.

"No one!" said the person, too quickly. "I mean…I…what's your name?"

"I asked you first…," breathed James, his heart caught in his throat and pounding furiously against his chest and turned to lead all at once.

The person – _the child_ – hesitated. "I can't– I mean…I don't…d'you, do you know Remus? R-Remus Lupin?"

James sank slowly to the floor, his breath growing faster and faster as he nodded numbly. Realizing after a moment that the child couldn't see him, he whispered, "…Yes."

"He, he said I should come here." the child began nervously, his voice trembling very slightly. James realized, with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, that the child – the boy – couldn't be more than seven or eight years old. "He said he kn-knew you, and that I should stay, stay here while he…while he…"

"He's here?" James said in astonishment, surging to his feet and rushing forward to grasp the bars of the cell in three quick strides. "_Here_? Now!"

"Y-yes, and he – he…"

"He's here…" whispered James, more to himself than anyone. He slid slowly to the floor, his head resting between the cold metal bars and his breath beginning to come in hitched sobs as his hands clenched and unclenched around the bars. Tears were slipping down his sunken cheeks, but an enormous smile was slowly spreading across his face and his voice had an edge of wild laughter to it as he murmured softly to himself, "Damn…"

"He…he's turning into a werewolf." Startled, James glanced up. The boy was directly in front of him, his face just visible in the silvery moonlight shining from the tiny barred window. Locks of jet-black hair hung limply in front of his thin, pale face, and enormous emerald green eyes stared nervously at him from behind broken wire-rimmed glasses. James' breath caught abruptly in his throat. His hands shaking, he slowly reached through the gap between two of the bars and, even more slowly, brought his hand up to rest against the boy's cheek. The boy flinched violently, but didn't move away. James nodded slowly, his eyes never once leaving the boy's face.

"I know." he whispered, his heart feeling as though it was going to explode within his chest. "You…you're…you're _Harry_…"

The boy – Harry – nodded confusedly. "…Yes…,"

James just stared at him, a wild cry that was half laugh, half hysterical sob rising in his throat. Slowly he drew his gaze away from Harry's face, and over to where his hand was resting against Harry's cheek. The last time he had seen Harry he had been so small he could still hold him in his arms, or rock him to sleep – the boy standing in front of him now was so, so big… "Is this a dream?" he murmured at last, his hand shaking as it rose up to brush a strand of black hair away from Harry's face. For the briefest of moments he thought he could make out the faint image of a lightning bolt, slashing across the middle of Harry's forehead – but then a moment later it was gone, and there were only Harry's emerald green eyes, staring up at him with a mixture of fear and reluctant bravado.

"No, I don't…I mean, I don't think so…"

"You're sure?"

Harry just stared at James, a strange but familiar expression on his face. Lily used to wear that look, after he – or, more often, Sirius – had just said something especially stupid. James could feel the messy grin on his face grow wider and wider, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the bars down and sweep Harry up in his arms and hold him forever and ever. He could feel his heart pumping wildly within his chest, his eyes were devouring Harry's face as though it were the last thing he would ever see, but his mind seemed to have gone numb. "Ah." he said after a moment, his voice breathless but still hoarse with disuse. "Right."

He stared at Harry, and Harry stared at him. Whatever traces of fear had been in Harry's eyes were quickly dissolving into a look of curiosity. "Why are you smiling like that?" he asked after a moment, his emerald green eyes – exactly how he had remembered them, exactly like Lily's – staring at him oddly.

Caught off guard, James' brow furrowed and he squinted at Harry confusedly. "Like what?"

Harry bit his lower lip embarrassedly, answering after a moment's hesitation, "Well, it's just…you look like you're going to be sick…"

James actually laughed, his mind reeling and spinning with elated giddiness. "I'm just so, so much happier than you could ever even begin to imagine…" he whispered, his hand dropping from Harry's face to clasp his son's hands feverishly. "Look, d'you think…maybe…do you think you could fit through the bars? I mean, maybe, if you could you could come in here, with…with me…"

Harry nodded slowly, but a doubtful look came over his face and he took a step backwards, disentangling his hands from James'. James' breath caught.

"I promise I won't throw up on you…" he said earnestly, the enormous, stupid smile plastered across his face faltering as, too late, he realized how ridiculous he sounded. Harry, however, was unable to stifle a small giggle, and James' smile grew in response. "Please?" he whispered pleadingly.

Time seemed to have stopped. Holding his breath, his eyes drilling pleadingly into Harry's, James waited with bated breath as Harry paused.

"…alright." Harry whispered at last, sliding into the blackness at the farthest end of the corridor. His face flushing and his hands shaking with giddy, half-wild anticipation, James stumbled backwards into the middle of the cell, his eyes squeezed shut as he struggled to get his racing heart under control.

When he finally opened his eyes again Harry was sitting directly in front of him, his back pressed up against the rusted bars of the cell and his eyes staring up at James shyly. "Hullo." he murmured.

"…Hi." said James breathlessly. For a moment that seemed to last forever he and Harry just stared at each other. It wasn't an uncomfortable pause – rather, James was too busy staring at his son – _his son!_ – to remember to speak, and Harry didn't seem to know what to say to this stranger who knew his name.

After a minute James sank slowly to the ground in front of Harry, scooting forward so that if he wanted to – and he did want to, he wanted to so badly it almost hurt – he could reach out and touch him. "Hi." he said again, unable to think of anything to say. Harry smiled wanly in response.

"D'you…do you remember me?" James asked at last, the question that had been burning in his mind spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Harry stared at him, a strange look on his face. Finally he opened his mouth, hesitated, and then whispered slowly, "I…no, I don't think so…"

James couldn't help but feel his heart sink. "Oh." he said, a sad sort of smile flashing across his face. "Right. I didn't think you would, I haven't seen you since you were a baby and I, I didn't think I'd ever see you again but now you're _here_ and I thought, maybe…you know…" Realizing that he was babbling, James trailed off. "Right," he said again, with a great deal of effort. "So. I'm James." He extended his hand, a nervous smile on his face as, almost unconsciously, his breath caught and he watched Harry with expectant and anxious eyes.

But Harry just smiled in response, his entire face lighting up and a small giggle escaping from between his lips. His hand – so much bigger than James remembered it – reached forward to gently clasp James' own. "I'm Harry." he said, trying unsuccessfully to repress a wider grin as James began to laugh in relief and complete happiness, pumping Harry's hand up and down enthusiastically as he tried his very hardest to suppress the urge to sweep Harry up into his arms and twirl him around and hug him as tightly as he could.

"Alright," said James at last, his voice breathless as he finally let go of Harry's hand. "So. Now we're acquainted."

"Yeah," said Harry, his smile slowly fading as he tilted his head and stared at James oddly. "…Are you okay?" he asked after a moment, his voice hesitating as his eyes darkened slightly with concern. "It's just…you look like you're crying…"

"Am I?" asked James, sounding genuinely startled as reached up and brushed his eye. His fingers came away wet, and he looked back up at Harry with something nearing abashment. "Sorry…"

"Remus said it's alright to cry." Harry said seriously, inching slowly closer to James. "He said it's okay to cry if you have to, sometimes."

James laughed weakly, wiping his eyes hurriedly with the back of his hand. "Remus is smart like that, isn't he?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically, his entire face brightening as he exclaimed brightly, "He's smarter than Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, _and_ he knew my dad!" James could feel a thrill shoot up his spine. "And he said, once we leave here, I can come and live with him!"

"Right…" said James after a moment, trying to force his thoughts back into some sort of order. "But wouldn't you rather stay here? I've heard it's a very big house."

Harry shook his head vehemently, rubbing the hem of the overcoat carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "No…there are lots of mean people here. One of them kidnapped me, and hurt Remus." Harry's face darkened, and James, unable to stop himself, reached up a hand and gently brushed his son's cheek.

"Remus is a lot stronger than he looks." he said confidentially, wincing in sympathy as Harry let out a low, dry sob. "Oh, Harry…"

And suddenly he couldn't stop himself any longer. With a strangled noise in the back of his throat he leaned forward, ignoring the sharp, jabbing pain in his right arm as he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's slender, shaking shoulders and buried his face in his son's wild, jet-black hair. He could feel Harry stiffen in his arms, and for one terrifying moment he was sure Harry would pull away from him – but then Harry sagged against him, his arms wrapping themselves around his back and his tears soaking into James' shirt.

"It's b-because of me he's he-here, and, and he tr-tried to protect me and they hurt, hurt him _instead_ and he s-says they didn't but they _d-did_, and, and now, n-now he's, he's g-g-going to –"

James pulled back, an enormous smile spilling across his face even as he could feel tears trail down his cheeks. He put a finger to Harry's lips, shushing him, and leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching.

"Whatever Remus did he did for himself, not because of you, right? Nothing that happened to him is your fault. Nothing, Harry, _nothing_. Remus loves you and Sirius loves you and _I_ love you, and we do whatever we can to help you because we love you so much, but no matter what happens nothing is your fault. Alright, Harry? _Nothing_ is your fault, not anything that has _ever_ happened…"

Harry nodded, sniffling as he buried his head in James' chest again. "Is it okay to, to be sc-scared, too?" he asked, in a small voice. James nodded, his arms tightening around Harry as he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Harry sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes on the ratted hem of his shirt. "I'm not r-really afraid, though." he said, blinking back his tears defiantly.

"Well, that makes one of us, then." murmured James under his breath, the top of Harry's head resting against his cheek and his jet black hair tickling him gently. James breathed in deeply – Harry smelled fresh, like soap and clean linens, and even though his face and hands were dirty and grimy he still smelt so familiar. James could feel his throat constrict, and he turned his head to bury his face completely in Harry's hair.

There was silence for a few moments. At last Harry, his face once more pressed against James' chest, whispered, just loud enough for James to hear, "Who's Sirius?"

James pulled back, staring at Harry in bewilderment. "Sirius? Sirius Black? You…you've never heard of Sirius?"

Harry shook his head, staring up at James expectantly. James let out his breath slowly, raising his hand to cover his face as the enormity of everything surrounding him settled around him like a bad dream. Finally he lowered his hand, shivering involuntarily in the crisp night air as he rested his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What did Voldemort tell you?" he asked quietly, forcing himself to push aside the raw, cold-white fury inside of him at the thought that Voldemort had raised _his_ child. "What do you know about, about…about your parents?"

"They're dead." said Harry truthfully, his fingers once more finding the frayed hem of the overcoat. "And they were wizards." He looked up, his emerald green eyes seeking out James' hazel ones. "Who's Voldemort?"

James felt as though he'd been punched in the chest. "You…you don't know Voldemort, either?" he asked, running his hand through his hair abstractedly as he stared at his son. "But…you _have_ to…The Dark Lord? Or, or Tom Riddle? D'you know…" Harry was already shaking his head.

"No…" he mumbled, curling against James and wrapping the overcoat as tightly around him as he could to ward off the dungeon chill. "Is he a wizard, too?"

James nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Finally he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, "Harry…who did you live with, after your parents died?"

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." Harry replied easily, closing his eyes as he snuggled closer to James and unwrapped the overcoat enough to drape it over both of them. "And Dudley, too. But once we escape, Remus says I can come and live with him so I won't have to live with them anymore."

"You…you weren't…This isn't your home?" choked James, the world spinning dizzyingly in front of him as he tried to process this new information. "But then…how…?"

"Abaddon kidnapped me." said Harry matter-of-factly, yawning as he shifted comfortably at James' side. "And Remus tried to save me, and he couldn't so he stayed with me instead of going back to Hog-warts. And he told me stories, about my dad and mum. And about magic." He looked up at James inquisitively. "Are you a wizard, too?"

James nodded mutely, and Harry beamed.

James didn't know what to say. Everything Abaddon and Voldemort had told him was a lie – Harry hadn't lived with them, he hadn't known about magic, he didn't even know who _Sirius_ was…

"Harry," said James suddenly, pushing himself to his knees as he swiveled around and stared urgently at Harry, "Did Remus tell you –"

He was cut off by a shrieking, bone-chilling howl. It sounded as though someone was being tortured – it was an inhumane, terrifying scream, and it went on and on, growing louder and louder as it echoed and reverberated through the dungeons.

Harry screamed, scrambling backwards and pressing himself against the rough stone wall as he stared at the barred entrance to the cell in unconcealed terror. A second later, however, his expression changed, and he threw himself forward, sprinting past James and grabbing a hold of the cell bars.

"Harry, what –" began James bewilderedly, his forehead creased against the noise as he stumbled forward, barely managing to grab a hold of Harry's hand.

"Th-that's…_R-Remus_, it's, it's g-g-gonna…_REMUS!_" Harry yanked his hand away from James, his breath hitching uncontrollably and his face white with terror as he scrambled to the far end of the cell, where he had slipped through before. "H-he's st-still, he's g-gonna…he'll _d-die_…_R-R-REMUS!_"

"What! Harry, _no_…" James lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry and holding him back as he struggled to get away. "You don't understand, Harry, that _is_ Remus…"

"_N-no!_ Th-they'll _hurt_ him, and, and, he m-m-might, you, you don't…" Harry voice trailed into incomprehensible sobs as he stopped struggling against James, his thin frame shuddering in James' arms as his hands knotted and unknotted around James' neck.

"He's not…he's not really Remus right now, Harry." murmured James, suppressing a soft cry of pain as he lifted Harry gently and carried him over to the far side of the cell, beneath the small barred window. "But he's fine. I promise he's fine."

"Pr-promise?" whispered Harry thickly. James nodded.

"Marauder's vow." he said softly, tousling Harry's hair and giving a small smile.

Another bone-chilling howl rang throughout the dungeon, and James wrapped his arms tightly around Harry as Harry whimpered and shrank against him. "Did Remus tell you about the Marauders?" asked James, raising his voice slightly so that Harry could hear him.

Harry looked up at James, focusing on him through fear-dilated eyes. His emerald green eyes were bright with tears, but James saw, with an almost overwhelming surge of pride, that he was refusing to let them fall. "N-no…" he stammered, managing a tremulous smile as James grinned reassuringly at him.

"Well then, Harry, let me tell you a story…"

* * *

**A/N - **Good? Bad? Somewhere in-between? Please review, and tell me! Because, my friends, the best Thanksgiving present you could give me would be a nice, long review. -grins hopefully-

Special thanks to _greeneyes_, _morgan_, _maria_, _blue_ _lycan_, _P_, _Estelle_, and _HI!_, my lovely reviewers who left unsigned reviews.

Next update - (_at the moment untitled)_. In which Moony and Padfoot duke it out, the whole gang (FINALLY) meets, and things go steadily from bad to good to worse. At the moment unfinished, so hopefully coming soon.

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!


	16. St George and the Dragon

**A/N - **Hullo again, everyone. Sorry this update was late, but schoolwork's been getting heavy because of break coming up and I haven't had all that much time to write. Rather unfortunately, this chapter reflects that - I was going to have everyone meet up at the end of this chapter, but for the sake of timely updates I just cut it off at the closest evil cliffhanger. Sorry!

That being said - I rather enjoyed writing this chapter, even if I did get a bit carried away with the Snape and Lucius bit. A link to the picture Snape is talking about can be found in my bio, and I highly recommend you look at it as it will make ever so much more sense if you do.

So, anyways - thank you SO much for reviewing (37 for one chapter! Hurrah!), and review reply thingies will be sent out soon. Promise. And now...enjoy!

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 16 – St. George and the Dragon_

_August 9, 1987_

_With a maniacal laugh Bellatrix ripped Sirius away from Peter and shoved him headfirst into the cell, slamming the door shut behind him and sticking her face through the bars. In the white light from the full moon that was just now rising outside her eyes looked as though they were gleaming with madness. "Nighty-night." _

_With another maniacal laugh she darted away, back down the corridor and out of sight. Peter lingered for a moment more – then he too scurried away, leaving Sirius alone with the person who was gasping and crying out in pain behind him. Very slowly, Sirius turned around. _

**ooooo**

A man was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his face hidden in his arms as he shuddered, screaming as a sliver of silvery moonlight fell across his back. He unclenched his hands and scrabbled forward, trying to get out of the way of the moonlight falling deeper and deeper into the room. He looked about ready to collapse – his arms were shaking uncontrollably, and even in the scant light provided by the moon Sirius could see that he was slick with sweat.

"Hello?" called Sirius cautiously, approaching slowly as the man cried out again, his entire body convulsing before he collapsed to the ground, shivering uncontrollably. The man either ignored him or didn't hear him – Sirius hesitated, swallowing back the pain still shooting through his head, and then dropped to a crouch in front of him and touched his shoulder gently.

The man froze. Sirius, suddenly nervous, fought down the urge to step back and instead said loudly, "Look, are you alright?"

The man still didn't answer, and Sirius was about to back away when, quite suddenly, he raised his head.

The whites of his eyes were gone, turned a deep, tawny gold that glinted in the moonlight. His veins were clearly visible through his pale sheen of skin, and as he gasped for breath his teeth were visible, long and fang-like, more animal than human.

Sirius' breath caught. Even after six years in Azkaban he would have recognized him anywhere.

"**_Remus?_**" he breathed softly, staring at his friend as though he were unable to believe his eyes. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"aHarry

Remus just stared at him, almost as though he didn't recognize him. Finally he opened his mouth, every muscle in his body tensed as he stared fixedly at Sirius. "Not…Harry…" he rasped, reaching up and grasping Sirius' hand. Sirius started, ignoring the pain in his hand as Remus' grip grew tighter and tighter as he stared, thunderstruck, at Remus.

"_**Harr**y_? _Our_ Harry? Remus, where is he? Where is he? REMUS!"

Remus seemed to have finally realized who Sirius was. His mouth hanging slightly open, he stared blankly at Sirius – and then his eyes narrowed, his claw-like nails digging into Sirius' hand just as the long strip of moonlight falling upon the dungeon floor shifted and fell across his back.

Sirius swore loudly, grabbing Remus' arm and dragging him out of the way of the moonlight, but it was too late. Remus had stiffened, his eyes glazing over and his entire body convulsing as he began to transform. Sirius swore again, prying his hand loose from Remus' grip and swiveling so that he was in front of Remus, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him desperately.

"It wasn't me, Remus, I swear it wasn't; you know I would never betray Lily and James, I loved them, I loved Harry – you have to believe me, Remus, I never…" Sirius trailed off. Remus' head was lolling back, his nose fading back into his face as his jaw lengthened into a muzzle – thick, tawny fur was spreading slowly from his chest to his neck, and his mouth opened in a silent scream as his back suddenly curved in, almost as though it were forced down by some giant, invisible hand.

Suddenly furious, Sirius gripped the neck of Remus' sweater and forced him to look at him. "It wasn't me!" he hissed desperately, shoving Remus against the wall, away from the patch of moonlight that crept closer and closer, nearly flooding the entire cell. "You have to believe me, Moony, I'd never betray them, never…"

Somehow Remus managed to focus on him through the pain, his dilated, golden eyes fixing Sirius with a look of bitter loathing. He was past the point of speaking, but he didn't have to – his animal-like face contorted in a look of silent fury, he snarled and ripped Sirius away from him, tossing him aside as easily as though he were a rag doll.

Sirius was thrown across the cell, his back slamming into the floor and the world going momentarily black before his eyes as the wind was completely knocked out of him. Choking back the sudden, dizzying pain shooting throughout his body, he staggered to his feet and stared furiously at the monster that his friend was fast becoming.

He knew Remus had no reason to believe him, he knew he couldn't help what was happening to him – but, right at that moment, none of that mattered. Remus _had_ to believe him; it didn't matter that he didn't have any reason to, because _he was innocent_, and Remus should _know_ that. He'd saved his sorry neck enough times during school, and after school, and Remus knew him, and should have known he would never, _never_, **_never_** betray Lily and James and Harry…and even if Remus couldn't stop what was happening to him he could fight it, fight it like he used to, fight it long enough to actually _listen_ to what Sirius had to say…

"_Alright_, Moony." he growled, stalking forward and ignoring the sharp, biting pain in his back as he stopped in the center of the room and glared ferociously at Remus. "Alright. Listen up. I don't give a damn that out of all the times we could've met, it had to be now – I'm here, you're here, _and you are going to listen to what I have to say_."

In three quick strides Sirius was in front of Remus – before Remus had time to pull away he'd dropped to a crouch, grabbing Remus' forearms and slamming him against the wall, somehow managing to hold him there even while he struggled to break away.

"_I – didn't – kill – them_." Sirius snarled, thrusting his face to within an inch of Remus'. Remus growled, his face almost completely wolf-like and his golden eyes staring at Sirius furiously. "I know exactly what you're doing, Moony, and I don't care. If you want to welcome the transformation just so you're strong enough and stupid enough to kill me, fine. Go ahead and try. But I would have died for them, Remus, just like I'd have done for you or you would've done for any of us. And you won't be able to kill me, because you _know_ I'm telling the truth."

Sirius glared at Remus, his eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to say something more – but then slowly his look faltered, the words on his lips turning to a cry of alarm as he fell backwards, Remus' fangs grazing his chest.

Finally breaking free of Sirius' grip, Remus had lunged forward just as Sirius fell back. Sirius could feel fangs scrape across his chest, just barely nicking his skin – but Remus had overshot him, and before he could turn around and lunge in for a second attack Sirius was already on his feet, every muscle in his body tensed as Remus turned around.

He had fully transformed. Coarse tawny fur covered his entire body, bristling as lupine muscles coiled and tensed beneath his skin. Arms had turned into legs, and his sharp, ivory fangs were bared in a snarl as he stalked slowly forward.

"Right," muttered Sirius, his knees bent slightly as he stared unblinkingly into Remus' – Moony's – eyes. "So much for the soppiness." The fur on his back bristling, Moony growled and drew to a stop three feet from Sirius, his eyes fixing him with a look of complete and utter hatred.

Sirius' mouth twitched. "Three…" he murmured under his breath, his eyes slowly moving downward from Moony's face to his powerfully muscled chest, "…two…o–"

Moony howled, his lupine face raised to the ceiling as an awful, shrieking, enraged scream tore out of his throat. Sirius was almost knocked backwards by the intensity of it, his eyes closed tightly as it echoed and rang in his ears – forcing back the spinning, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, he opened his eyes just as Moony, his golden eyes burning in hatred, lunged straight for his throat.

**ooooo**

His face a carefully maintained mask of aristocratic disdain, Lucius Malfoy grimaced inwardly and scanned the great hall with eyes carefully veiled behind a look of scorn. The newly freed prisoners were growing louder and bolder as the night wore on – one had been audacious enough to throw his arms around Lucius' neck and embrace him, much to that prisoner's later regret – but, even as the hall grew more and more crowded, there was still no sign of Sirius Black.

Pulling his cloak more tightly around him, Lucius gave the room one last, condescending glance and, untouched glass of wine in hand, swiveled around and walked with even, measured steps toward the unobtrusive, paneled doorway leading to the oldest room in the manor. The door was cracked open – allowing himself a small smile, Lucius glanced around once more and, certain no one was watching him, cracked it open further and slipped inside, shutting and locking it behind him.

All at once the cacophony of laughter and voices outside ceased. The barest hint of a sigh escaping his lips, Lucius turned around and tucked the ancient brass key to the room into the pocket of his robes, and then, with obvious care, picked his way through the mass of objects crammed into the room.

Paintings, both magical and muggle, adorned the walls. Some were over 700 years old, their inhabitants almost indistinguishable and their frames dark and tarnished – portraits of the Malfoy family lined the right wall, running to the very end of the hall where an enormous painting of Narcissa, Draco, and Lucius himself stared with detached interest at him. Statues and busts were scattered erratically around the room, intermingling with magically preserved hunting trophies, bureaus stuffed full of priceless documents and texts, and other ancient artifacts and relics. Sidestepping a pair of medieval swords and what looked suspiciously like an Egyptian sarcophagus covered with a tapestry, Lucius could finally see the room's other occupant.

Severus Snape was standing with his back to Lucius, a half empty goblet of red wine held in his hand and his cloak lying discarded on a seaman's trunk beside him. As Lucius drew closer he could see that he was contemplating a large, faded muggle painting, almost hidden between the two medieval tapestries that flanked it.

"Good evening, Severus." said Lucius softly, drawing even with the potions master at last. "Dare I enquire as to what it was, exactly, that you found so fascinating in here that it obliged you to abandon me with all of those wretches out there?"

Severus didn't answer immediately, taking a sip of wine instead and continuing to eye the painting meditatively. "Tintoretto." he replied at last, shifting slightly to the side in an unspoken invitation for Lucius to admire the painting with him. "Notice the energy and the colors. Faded and somber, but still striking. I'm surprised you keep it hidden away in your little treasure room here."

"Hmm." said Lucius indifferently, eyeing the painting with dispassionate eyes. "Saint George and the Dragon. Completely inaccurate and rather depressing. I've always meant to throw it away."

Severus ignored him. "Notice the man down here, in the lower left corner." he continued, his voice low, as though he were talking to himself. His finger, barely a breadth away from the canvas, traced lightly over the man's body. "What is it he's died from, one must wonder? The dragon seems most obvious, of course, and yet aside from the fact that he's dead he looks completely unharmed."

"Avada Kedavra?" suggested Lucius, the faintest hint of boredom tracing through his voice. Severus shook his head.

"Impossible – Tintoretto was a muggle. No, the answer is simpler – he doesn't belong there at all. His presence is merely an unnecessary elaboration on the theme. The same with this girl, over here." His finger traced up, to the upper right of the canvas. "The girl praying. Why bother lingering when she is perfectly capable of fleeing towards the safety of the castle? Again, because her presence is a decoration, nothing more than a testament to the courage and valor of Saint George."

"Fascinating." said Lucius, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Yes, it is." said Severus thoughtfully. He paused for a moment, his fingers suspended in the air above the painting – and then slowly he curved his fingers down, brushing the canvas almost reverentially. "You see, eliminating that man and that girl leaves the painting with two focuses. Saint George battling the dragon, an obvious metaphor for good versus evil, and these townspeople here, in the background. Evidently they aren't brave enough to face the dragon themselves, and so they flee. Down their own special road." Severus' fingers trailed over the side of the frame, prying into the inch-wide gap between the painting and the wall. There was a small click – Lucius started, taking an involuntary step backwards as the painting swung forwards. "Where there are cowards, there are exits. Shall we, Lucius?"

"Very…impressive." said Lucius at last, finding his voice and taking a wondering step forward. "How did you –"

Severus brushed past him, wine goblet in one hand and lit wand in the other as he stepped into the dank stone passageway that a moment ago had been hidden behind the painting. It was black as midnight – outside of the circle of light cast by Severus' wand there was nothing but absolute, choking darkness. The faint dripping of water could be heard up ahead, and Lucius was certain he could hear the rustling of wings as he stepped cautiously into the corridor after Severus. "The treasure room was built in the same time as the dungeons, yes?" Severus asked sharply, striding forward with a sudden urgency.

"About three years before. Why?"

"_Black_," – Severus spat out the name, as though it were something particularly distasteful – "arrived here earlier this evening. I saw him, and at first did nothing – five minutes later he was gone. All of the other doors leading out of the hall are magically closed, and none of the prisoners are powerful enough or related closely enough to you or Narcissa to open them. Black must have gone through here."

"To the dungeons." finished Lucius, his pace quickening as he attempted to keep up with Severus. "Very good. And what does this have to do with us?"

Severus stopped short, swiveling around and thrusting his wand in Lucius' face. "I loathe Black." he snarled, his black eyes flashing as he took a menacing step towards Lucius. "I despise him. Nothing on earth would please me more than to see him follow Potter in death. But the Dark Lord wishes to keep him alive for the time being, and I am not going to see him torn apart by a werewolf while under my authority."

"And so we follow your exit?" Lucius said coldly, pushing the tip of Severus' wand aside with his silk-gloved hand. "To wherever it may lead?"

"Unless you wish to be the one to tell the Dark Lord you allowed his newest favorite to be savaged by a werewolf while you got steadily drunk upstairs – then yes, to wherever it may lead."

Severus turned back around, his stride growing quicker and more urgent as he continued down the passage. Lucius hurried after him – for several minutes there was silence except for the dripping of water and the swift clacking of boot heels on stone. Finally Lucius cleared his throat.

"I suppose it might upset Dumbledore, as well."

Severus stopped dead in the center of the passageway, swirling around and narrowly avoiding sloshing the remainder of his wine all over Lucius' robes as he thrust his wand to within an inch of Lucius' face.

"_What_ _might upset Dumbledore?_" he hissed, turning and raising his wrist ever so slightly as, almost unconsciously, he assumed standard dueling position.

Surprised and more than a bit delighted at catching Severus off his guard, Lucius affected a look of arrogant nonchalance and glanced down, brushing a speck of imaginary dust off the cuff of his robes. "Black dying." he said casually, still looking down. "I imagine he might feel some passing remorse in the death of one of his favorite pupils."

Lucius chanced a glance up. Severus' face was as unreadable as ever, but he thought he could detect, behind the mask of cool indifference, a spark of worry. "Black is already dead to the headmaster, as you well know." snapped Severus, his voice a trifle sharper than necessary. "He died in Dumbledore's eyes when he killed the Potters and thirteen muggles. I doubt Dumbledore will be at all troubled with his actual death."

Lucius stared at Severus incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I talking about'?" said Severus testily.

Lucius just stared at him, nonplussed. "Sirius Black was never a Death Eater." he said slowly, his eyes fixed on Severus' face. "All of the crimes he was accused of…they were all committed by Peter Pettigrew."

Severus stared at him. "You're…lying." he said automatically.

"You didn't know?" said Lucius incredulously, taking a small step forward. Severus took a step back.

"I…no." he said at last, with a great deal of effort. "No. But whether or not Sirius Black was a Death Eater is irrelevant. It is evident that the Dark Lord wishes to use him now for some purpose or other, and he will not be of much use if the werewolf gets to him first."

"It's relevant to Dumbledore." said Lucius softly. Severus glared at him, lowering his wand and raising the goblet to his lips.

"And that is neither your nor my concern." he snapped, his voice making it clear that this particular discussion was closed. "And so, if you are sure you're quite finished…"

Severus drained the rest of his goblet, then tossed it aside against the roughly masoned stone wall. The glass shattered, breaking into a hundred broken pieces – Severus swiveled around and continued down the passageway, an increased urgency in his stride.

Lucius lingered for a moment more, staring at the broken shards of glass littering the floor. "Bravo." he whispered softly. A sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he looked up and hurried to follow Severus. For several minutes the faint glow of light that was Severus' wand was visible, growing steadily fainter and fainter…and then that disappeared, and the corridor was left in darkness.

**ooooo**

James tousled Harry's hair absently, his hazel eyes staring down at the small, black-haired boy asleep in his lap but not really focusing on him at all. He had tried, for the past hour or so, to convince himself that he was imagining things, that everything that had happened in the last few months was finally wearing away at him…but it was undeniable now, and he was afraid.

It wasn't just Remus at the other end of the dungeons. There was someone – something – with him.

He closed his eyes, shivering slightly, and grasped Harry's hand tightly. Harry's hands were almost as cold as his were – James' eyes flew open as, fighting back a sudden surge of panic, he draped the overcoat over Harry, tucking it snugly around him and draping his arms around Harry's thin shoulders. He lowered his head so that his chin rested in Harry's hair, and for a moment all thoughts of worry vanished.

"I love you, Harry." he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Harry's forehead gently. Harry smiled, stirring in his sleep, and James could feel a lump rise in his throat. "I love you." he repeated, his voice softer as he closed his eyes again.

A moment later, however, his eyes jerked open. A long, howling scream was echoing through the dungeons, followed by an inhumane, roaring snarl. James, fully awake, sat up straighter – every muscle in his body was tensed as he leaned protectively over Harry, who was blinking blearily and making to sit up.

"Wh-where –?"

"Shh…," whispered James, allowing Harry to stumble to his feet but still keeping one hand protectively on his shoulder as he raised himself to a crouch. The last shrieking echoes died away, and there was silence – but it was the silence of expectation, and it was almost as painful as the noise.

"Something's going to happen." Harry murmured, his green eyes fully awake now as he stared up at James in fright. The moonlight glinted on the rim of his glasses as he pressed himself against James. "Something bad."

Not trusting himself to speak, James nodded and reached down to grasp Harry's hand tightly.

For a few moments there was silence.

And then, quite suddenly, there was an enraged, bloodthirsty, animal-like scream. James didn't know if it came from Remus or whoever – whatever – it was that Remus was with, but before he could even raise his arms to clasp his hands over his ears it was blocked out by another, more terrible noise.

The scrape of metal against stone, and then a horrible, wrenching, ripping sound.

"No…" whispered James, his breath catching in his chest as he pulled Harry closer to him and stared with disbelieving eyes at the barred entrance to the cell.

He had never heard that sound before, but he knew it, deep in his gut. It was the sound of prison bars ripping themselves free of a stone wall.

"Harry," he whispered slowly, backing to the corner of the cell furthest from the bars, "Get behind me, now…"

**ooooo**

He could hardly move through the pain. He had never remembered Remus being like this before – normally he was calmer, more himself when one of them were with him, but tonight Sirius' presence did nothing so much as incite him further.

For the first time in what felt like ages Sirius allowed himself to relax, dropping stiffly to the ground as Remus – Moony – growled, his hackles raised as he turned and stalked with silent, predatory steps to the front of the cell. His snout raised in the air, he bared his teeth and rose up on his hind legs, grasping the bars clumsily with hands that were something of a cross between wolf's paws and human hands. He snarled, his golden wolf's eyes gleaming in the semidarkness as his mouth opened, fangs glistening in a predatory grin. And then, quite suddenly, he howled, his voice a shrieking, hungry roar as he grasped the bars as tightly as he could and pressed his full weight against them.

He had completely lost interest in Sirius, and was trying to tear the bars down.

_I don't care… _thought Sirius dreamily, his head lowering and his eyelids drooping until his eyes were nothing more than narrowed slits. _Just leave me alone…just for a little while…_

His black fur was completely matted with blood, and even though most of the scratches were superficial there were two deep gashes slashing diagonally across his muzzle, blood slowly trickling around his eyes and down his face. Something was wrong with his front leg – it was either broken or sprained, he didn't know which and was too tired to care – and his head was spinning dizzyingly. Every inch of him was battered and bruised, and all he wanted was to sleep…

Let Moony break down the bars and escape into the corridor, and do whatever he damn well pleased after that. He, Sirius, was done with it. It must be nearly daybreak anyway, and he was so tired…

His eyes drifted shut.

All at once a flood of thoughts and memories enveloped him, swamping his mind with a hundred different voices and faces. Bellatrix was leering at him, her eyes glinting with madness as her nails dug into his arm…"_There are dungeons here, dungeons that your traitorous flesh should feel honored to rot in…Then we will lock him up with one of the other traitors! With the werewolf, perhaps, so then he will die…" _And then Peter, his face absolutely terrified and his voice trembling as he whispered in Sirius' ear,_ And you…you're not supposed to b-be here, but I thought, m-m-maybe you could save every, everyone…" _And Remus last of all, struggling to hold onto his humanity as he clenched Sirius' hand in a bone crushing grip –_ "Not…Harry…"_

Harry.

Remus had let Sirius alone because he had smelled Harry. Harry was here.

Sirius opened his eyes and, every muscle in his body protesting, staggered to his feet. Growling softly, ignoring the dull, throbbing ache in his front leg, he limped forwards and then tensed, his body coiled as he prepared to spring.

Moony howled, and the bars broke free of the wall with a wrenching shriek.

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**A/N** - Loved it? Hated it? Ready to shoot me for the cliffhangers? 

Special thanks to _maria_ (x2), _Firefly, sarina, Lozzybabes, blue lycan, Janet Lily_ (x2), _Glitch, morgan, saira, P_, and _HI,_ my anonymous reviewers. Thanks!

Alright - because the holidays are coming up, which means busy-ness and possibly quite a bit of time away from home, there is a VERY good chance that the next update won't come until after Christmas. I will make a point of getting lots of writing done over break, however, and so hopefully after that there shouldn't be too many more late updates. So, to reiterate - I'll try and get the next chapter out before Christmas, but I won't promise anything. If not, then -

**_MERRY CHRISTMAS!_**

And much love to all of you : )

Next update - _Revelations _(NOT August 10th. Most sorry for the confusion). In which Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs meet, Snape becomes seriously annoyed, and Abaddon makes a reappearance. Comin' when it comes.

Please review!


	17. Revelations

**A/N -** Surprise! Yes, believe it or not I actually managed to write a decent sized chapter on time...and, as promised, the gang finally meets up. Hurrah!

So, since I really have to ask - what do you guys think about the new forum feature? It has me rather perplexed, I must admit...there's really no central area, so I have the feeling that before long it'll be difficult to keep many of them active. What do you guys think?

Alright, that being said...**MERRY CHRISTMAS!** (or nearly Christmas, anyway). Consider this my present to all of you : )

ALSO - since I had quite a few people mistake the chapter title "August 10th" as the date I'd next post, I switched the title to "Revelations" instead. I'm really, really sorry about that...I'm just horrid at coming up with titles, I'll admit it. Although I do rather like this title...it amuses me...

One last thing - there is a bit of bad language in this chapter. Nothing you wouldn't hear everyday on the schoolbus, but just thought I'd warn you. And now, without further ado...**

* * *

**

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying. Also – there are a few biblical references in this chapter (more specifically _Revelations 12:9_). Needless to say, that's not mine either.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 17 – Revelations_

_August 10, 1987_

Draco was supposed to have been in bed hours ago. He'd been tucked in at 8:30, and all of the drapes in his room had been drawn shut and the door magically locked and soundproofed. But he couldn't sleep, not tonight, not when so much was happening.

His pale, delicate face scrunched in a thoughtful frown, Draco dangled his legs absently over the end of his bed and stared into the smoldering fire burning in the cold marble fireplace. The only clock in the room had broken years ago and he'd never asked Father to fix it, but a few bars of pinkish light were stealing past the drapes and falling across his silver, satiny pajamas, making his cheeks look flushed and rosy, and he knew it had to be early morning.

"Gwell," he called softly, still staring into the fire, "Come here, now."

There was silence for a few moments – and then with a loud CRACK a very sleepy-looking house elf appeared in the middle of the room, rubbing her eyes and looking up at Draco confusedly.

"Master called?" she said, managing to suppress a yawn as she fixed Draco with a bewildered and slightly reproving look. "But young master is supposed to be in bed, whatever will Mistress think…"

"I'm hungry." announced Draco loudly, interrupting her as he slid off the bed, padding over to the small, velvet footstool set in front of the fire. "And the fire's gone out."

Gwell hesitated. "Young master is supposed to be in bed." she repeated, wringing her hands anxiously. "Whatever will Mistress do to poor Gwell, if she is to find out young master is awake…"

"But it's _cold_ without the fire." said Draco, looking up at Gwell with wide, pleading eyes. "And it's just a snack, Gwell. Please?"

Gwell gave in. Still looking as though this were against her better judgment, she snapped her fingers and at once the fire burst to life, flames crackling merrily as though it had only been burning for a few minutes. "What would young master like to eat?" she said reluctantly.

"Scrambled eggs!" replied Draco enthusiastically, beaming at the house elf while she stared guiltily at the floor. "With lots of pepper. And bacon. And a really big glass of chocolate milk."

Gwell looked up at Draco, shocked. "But, master just said a _snack_…"

"I promise I'll eat at breakfast." Draco added hurriedly. "And I'm really hungry, really…"

Gwell sighed, dropping her eyes and shuffling backwards out of the room. "Gwell must do as master wishes…" she mumbled. "But all the bad men are downstairs, and Gwell doesn't like this at all…" With another sigh and one last backward glance at Draco, she snapped her fingers and disappeared with another loud CRACK.

Draco smiled in satisfaction, flopping down on the worn rug in front of the fire and staring, transfixed, into the dancing flames. The sky was growing lighter and lighter outside, the bars of rosy pink light falling into the room turning slowly to a deep, rich gold. Draco yawned, and closed his eyes.

**ooooo**

Smile hidden behind the back of his hand, Lucius watched with veiled amusement as Severus, looking positively, stark raving mad, stalked back and forth in front of the solid stone wall, furiously cursing everyone and everything in sight.

"You know," said Lucius at last, raising his voice over Severus' stream of blasphemy, "I'm sure if you tapped just the right stones in just the right order, it might just open up for you…"

Severus stopped dead, his back to Lucius and his shoulders hunched and tense. "Do you have the faintest idea what this means?" he snarled, his voice echoing in the small antechamber the passageway had opened into.

Lucius shrugged. "That it would be wise to return before the Dark Lord returns and notices our absence?" he said lightly.

Severus whirled around, his black robes billowing around him and his wand thrust at Lucius' face as, nearly apoplectic with rage, he hissed, "It means that the bastard is going to die. It means, you fool, that _we are going to be blamed for it_."

"All that?" drawled Lucius, sounding faintly amused as he examined his manicured fingernails absently.

Severus' face contorted. With a savage growl he ripped his gaze away from Lucius – as he spun away his wand arm twitched to the side, and a jet of crimson light shot out of his wand and blasted into the wall, inches from Lucius' face. It ricocheted off, bounding and rebounding in the tiny, enclosed room.

Lucius looked up, his eyes growing wide as the spell ricocheted off the far wall and barreled straight at him. Decorum forgotten, he dropped to the dusty, uneven stone floor right as the spell crashed into the area of wall where, a moment ago, he had been standing. The spell bounced off the wall again, leaving a charred, smoking crater behind, and finally found it's way out through the narrow archway leading back into the passageway. Lucius could hear it smashing into the walls of the passage, growing steadily fainter and fainter until finally the sight and sound of it died away completely.

Making no move to get up, Lucius just stared at the arched entrance to the passageway. "Damn…" he whispered softly, brushing a strand of silvery hair behind his ear before he turned his head to look at Severus, who was still standing in the middle of the room, a blank look on his face as he raised his arm, looking at the sleeve of his robes. They were burned – the spell had rocketed barely a fingerbreadth from his skin. "Feeling better now?" asked Lucius coldly.

Severus turned to look at him slowly. "That was…an accident." he said mechanically. Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And…I'm sorry." he added stiffly.

"You know, we could have just as easily gone down to the dungeons through the usual passage." said Lucius frostily, rising fluidly to his feet and brushing himself off.

Severus shook his head. "If Black went down here, he couldn't have been far ahead of us." he said grudgingly, turning away from Lucius as he continued to stare morosely at the solid wall blocking the passage. "We should have caught up to him by now."

"We haven't." said Lucius, unnecessarily.

Severus was silent for a few moments. Finally – "I know." He sighed, turning around and raising his wand, muttering something under his breath. The end of the wand began to glow brightly, and Severus' eyes flicked over to Lucius.

"You're…right." he said, sounding as though it was costing him quite a lot to say this. "We should go." He glanced over at the archway, took one step forward, and then stopped.

Lucius contemplated him pensively for a moment. "You owe it to him to stay, don't you." he said at last. Severus glanced over at him, startled.

"Black? I don't owe Black _anything_." he snapped contemptuously. Lucius shook his head impatiently.

"No, not him…you know who I'm talking about." he said, his voice thoughtful. "Him. Dumbledore."

Severus scowled, shooting Lucius a scathing look. "I don't owe that muggle-loving fool anything, either. Most assuredly not Black's life."

"Then leave." said Lucius, his voice quiet but commanding. Severus didn't move, and Lucius offered him a humorless smile.

"Very good. Then stay here; I'm sure inspiration will strike while I'm gone." Giving Severus a courteous nod, Lucius strode around him and through the archway, back down the passage. Severus stared after him, his gaze lingering even after he had disappeared from sight. Finally he sank to the ground, his gaze slowly turning to the seemingly impregnable masoned wall blocking the passage.

"I don't owe Black anything." he whispered mutinously, scowling at the wall. For a few minutes he just sat there, his breath forming delicate clouds of steam in the chilly room…and then quite suddenly he rose to his feet, wand held in the air in front of him as he strode to one of the natural stone walls and began to examine it minutely.

It was either go ahead or turn back. But then again, failure really wasn't an option.

"_And the great dragon was cast down…_" he whispered softly, pausing as his hands brushed over the smoothed cave walls. Almost reflexively he glanced down at his feet, and smiled.

**ooooo**

He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't do anything but close his eyes and dig his claws down as far as he could. He was trying, he was trying as hard as he could, but he was stumbling, and he knew it.

Moony, on the other hand, seemed to have grown more frenetic as the night went on. With a savage snarl he rolled out from under Sirius, his weight pressing against Sirius' left leg. Sirius yelped, stumbling to the side and trying to steady himself against the dizzying waves of pain shooting up his leg and through his body. It was enough time for Moony, his golden eyes glinting madly in the faint, rosy light shining at the end of the corridor, to get to his feet and leap forward, knocking Sirius to the ground.

Sirius opened his eyes, and stared into the maddened face of his friend.

He struggled weakly, trying to get out from under Moony's vise-like grip – claws were digging through his fur, right into his skin, and he could feel hot breath brush against his neck. He closed his eyes again, fighting against him as much as he could, even though he knew it was no use. _I'm sorry, Harry…_

He could feel razor sharp fangs against his throat, and then something wet sliding down his neck. Blood. Moony was about to kill him.

With a surge of adrenaline he didn't know he had he pulled back – Moony's fangs slid lower, tearing into his side instead of his throat. But before Moony could recover and lunge for his throat again he was on his feet, hackles raised and teeth bared. He knew he was hurt – he could feel blood coursing down his side, and he had to blink as blood dripped into his eyes from a gash across his face – but he couldn't feel anything. Everything was suddenly happening in slow motion, and as Moony leapt forward he drew to the side, pivoting around when Moony overshot him and throwing himself against the werewolf's side, knocking both of them to the ground.

Sirius was on his feet first, his gray eyes flashing as he locked his jaws around Moony's leg and dragged him back. Moony twisted out of his grip, tawny fur bristling as he leapt on Sirius, tackling him to the ground – but then suddenly he stopped, his snout raised in the air even while he pinned Sirius to the ground.

Moony growled, the skin on his back rippling and undulating as his face contorted – for the briefest of seconds the bestial glint in his eyes was replaced with a look of almost human-like horror. His grip on Sirius loosened for just a moment, but it was enough for Sirius to roll out from under him and scramble to his feet.

The height of the adrenaline rush was wearing away – Sirius could feel his reactions begin to grow sluggish, and there was a dull throbbing in his left leg, not so much painful as aching. But that didn't matter – daylight was coming, Moony was starting to turn back, it would all be over soon, it had to be…

The inhumane, savage gleam had returned to Moony's eyes. With a snarl Sirius leapt forward, but instead of bracing to meet him Moony sidestepped out of the way – Sirius crashed to the ground, his leg giving out under him and his head smashing against the wall. He struggled to get to his feet, but it was too late – Moony had already dashed down the corridor, and as Sirius looked up through dazed eyes he could see him draw to a halt at the end of the passageway, raised onto his haunches as he howled in terrifying triumph.

And then there was another sound, just barely audible under the screaming, painful cacophony that was Moony's howl of triumph. Screaming – someone was screaming. _Harry_ was screaming.

It felt as though he were detached from his body – he couldn't feel anything but an absolute, mind-numbing fury, and even as Moony's contorted hands grasped the cell bars and began to yank them free of the wall he was sprinting down the corridor, pain lost in a cold, blanketing rage. He reached the end of the dungeon corridor, but didn't slow down – instead he barreled straight into Moony, knocking him to the floor and away from the bars.

The screaming inside the cell escalated, but he was too focused on Moony, who was rising to his feet, to pay any attention. Moony's body was shaking and convulsing – day was rising outside, but even though his lycanthropy was beginning to wear away Moony's golden, lupine eyes were still as full of hatred as ever.

Moony stared at him, glistening white fangs bared in a snarl as he slowly approached Sirius until they were directly facing each other. Sirius could hear another voice behind him, but almost instinctively he ignored it – his mind was too numbed with rage and pain to think, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes trained on Moony, his body tensed as they slowly circled each other, move for move.

Growling deep in his throat, Sirius followed Moony's every move – Moony passed the cell bars again, but his eyes were fixed on Sirius and he kept circling. And then Sirius passed the cell bars, his back to them and his face towards Moony and the opposite wall. Moony's tail twitched, and Sirius faltered for the barest of seconds – with a savage howl Moony launched himself forwards, knocking Sirius and himself against the cell bars and bringing both of their full weights to bear against them.

Sirius could feel the cold bars pressing against his fur, could feel Moony's hot breath on his face, and he struggled to break free…but it was too late. With a groaning, awful shriek the bars broke free of the wall and crashed into the cell amidst a cloud of dust and piercing screams.

His head spinning and his throat choked with dust, Sirius tried to get to his feet, but couldn't – one of the masoned stone bricks that formed the dungeon had broken free when the bars fell and had fallen onto his chest, trapping him underneath. _Damn it damn it **damn** it…_ Sirius struggled desperately to break free, his heart racing and his breath coming in great, panting gasps as he tried push aside the stone – but the stone wouldn't budge, and he could see Moony, rising out of the rubble and leaping forwards –

– But before he could reach the small, huddled mass in the corner that Sirius knew, instinctively, was Harry, something gigantic rose in front of him, slamming him into the wall and pinning him there with an enormous spread of antlers.

Sirius could see Moony visibly sag, his body shivering and contorting uncontrollably even while he stared with utter bewilderment at the giant stag that held him trapped against the wall.

Even though he was mentally and physically exhausted, even though he hadn't seen him for over six years, Sirius _knew_ who it was. He'd had over six years to memorize every inch of him, from the faint charcoal-black markings around his liquid, pale brown eyes to the set of diagonal scars scratched into his side, relic of a by-now forgotten fight on some full moon past. He knew the rack of smoky black antlers, the face which was just slightly longer than it should have been, the speckled tan-and-gray coat of fur…But it was impossible, Prongs was _dead_…

Even while he stared bars of early morning, golden sunlight fell into the room, shining across the ruined cell and throwing the two combatants into sharp relief.

Unable to think, Sirius just watched as Prongs backed up, his entire body shivering slightly until quite suddenly a thin, black-haired man was standing where a moment ago the stag had been. He seemed utterly exhausted; he looked as though he hadn't eaten for days, and there were dark, purplish-blue circles under his eyes as he stared at Moony. Almost mechanically, Sirius followed his gaze.

Remus was lying on the ground, his tawny fur disappearing back into skin and his body jerking as his bones realigned themselves into a human shape. His tail was gone, and his claws were shortening back into fingernails as his hands bent back into shape. His skin was a pale, deathly white, but there were gashes and cuts all across his chest and arms. His mouth was dyed crimson with blood, and even though he had nothing on but a ripped and torn pair of trousers his light brown hair was matted with sweat.

Finally he stopped shaking, grimacing against the pain and the shivers still racking his body as he pushed himself up, his weight resting on his arms, which were beginning to shake violently. Sirius could see him swallow painfully, and then look up through pain-bleared eyes.

"Hello…James…" he whispered, his voice so hoarse and scratchy it was almost incoherent.

Sirius could see the man, the man who _couldn't_ be James because James was _dead_, smile. "Hey." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. For a moment they just stared at each other – and then Remus, an almost beatific smile on his face, closed his eyes and dropped senselessly to the floor.

Sirius panicked. Almost without thinking he changed back into a human and began scrabbling with bloodied hands to push away the stone brick pinning him to the ground. "Stay away from him!" he barked, as the man – the man who was _not_ James, but who looked so achingly like him – dropped to the ground next to Remus. The man looked up, startled, and he and Sirius locked eyes.

The last time Sirius had seen James he had been cradling his dead body in his arms, gently closing his glassy eyes with trembling fingers. But now James, or at least James' face, was staring at him intently, and his hazel eyes were alive and sparkling in the bright, golden light flooding the dungeon.

"Sirius?" whispered James – no, _not_ James, some Death Eater that was impersonating him, that was all – uncertainly.

Sirius swallowed back a cry of pain as the stone lying across his chest finally shifted to the side – small flakes of stone had broken off and fallen into the still bleeding cuts running across his chest and down his sides. It hurt to breathe – at least one of his ribs had broken, probably more, and as he pulled himself to his knees it took every ounce of strength he had left to keep from crying out as every inch of his body screamed in protest.

"Stay…away from him…," repeated Sirius, staggering to his feet and leaning against the wall for support. "Stay _away_ from…him, you _bastard_…"

"What are you talking about?" The man, the man who looked so much like James, got to his feet and took a step closer to Sirius, away from Remus. "It's me, Sirius, it's James…"

Something inside Sirius exploded. As the man drew closer Sirius' fist clenched, and he drew his arm back – he barely had time to register the look of shook on the man's face before his fist flew forward. There was a sickening crack – the man stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the rubble littering the cell as he clapped his hand to his face and stared at Sirius in disbelief.

"James Potter is _dead_!" hissed Sirius, his voice shaking with rage as he staggered forward. "I _saw_ him! I don't know what…the _hell_ you think you're playing at…"

"No! No, it's me, Padfoot, it's me, listen–"

"You're Voldemort's…you're a Death Eater…"

"Would you just _listen_ to me, you stupid prat…,"

The man stepped forward before Sirius could turn away. "It's me, Sirius." he said urgently, grabbing Sirius' forearms before Sirius had a chance to try and strike him again. "Just, just…just trust me, alright?"

Sirius spat in his face.

"Voldemort _killed_ him!" he growled, struggling as hard as he could to break away from the man's grip. "How dare you, how _dare_ you…"

"Look, I thought you were dead, too." said the man hurriedly, shaking Sirius gently as he tried to force him to meet his eyes. "But, but then I knew it _had_ to be you, because how else could you transform? And so it has to be me, too, because I could turn into a, into a stag, and…And what the hell _happened_ to you…"

"You bastard," hissed Sirius, trying unsuccessfully to twist his arms free of James' grip. "You fucking bastard…I don't know how you did it, and…I don't _care_, because James is **_dead!_**"

"Padfoot, you _stupid_…listen, ok? We, we found out Remus was a werewolf in second year, right? And we told him we knew in the library, that weekend in March when it wouldn't stop raining…and it was really me that came up with the animagus idea, but you told Peter and Remus you did, remember? And, and that night you ran away from your parents – it was Christmas Eve, and my parents were asleep when you came so I snuck you up to my room. And then I gave you a pair of my pajamas and told you to take a bath and change in my bathroom, but you didn't come out for ages and I thought that that house elf of yours, Kreacher, had come in and kidnapped you, or something but really you'd just fallen asleep…And the next day you didn't have any presents so I gave you half of mine, and – look, I know it's impossible but it's _me_, Sirius, you have to believe me…"

Sirius glared at him, his breath coming in great, shuddering gasps as struggled madly to break away from the man's grip. "Wormtail told –"

"He _didn't_, you stupid, stubborn prat…look, what do you want me to say? Voldemort drank some sort of potion, that's how he's back and somehow I came back too, and I'm _sorry_, Sirius, I'm so, so sorry…"

"Oh, my darlings – this _is_ touching, isn't it?"

A man stepped out of the shadows of the ruined doorway, an ermine cloak draped across his shoulders and a blood red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. "Quite moving, hmm?" he continued pleasantly, stepping daintily around the fallen stone bricks and mangled bars heaped in the front of the cell. "I don't think the Dark Lord will like this very much, though." He paused, turning to smile benignly at Sirius. "You're not supposed to be down here, my dear. And our lovely little werewolf was supposed to have killed little Harry, and I don't see the poor little darling _anywhere_."

"_You…_," hissed Sirius, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Abaddon Jugson. Abaddon smiled brightly.

"Me! But really, my dear, I think we'll have to save the reunion for later…you're looking a bit under the weather, hmm? And we really must find Harry, or the Dark Lord will be most displeased…"

Sirius snarled, finally twisting himself free of the man's grip – but before he could lunge forward the man, the man who looked so achingly like James, grabbed him around the chest, dragging him into the back corner and away from Abaddon.

"Harry's…dead." the man whispered, his voice broken and trembling. "He…R-Remus…"

Abaddon beamed. "Oh, lovely. Then everything's going splendidly, darlings. And the Dark Lord and Lucius and Severus will be down eventually, and it'll almost be like a little party." He clapped his hands delightedly, nudging Remus aside with the toe of his boot as he approached them. Sirius stiffened as he drew closer, and the man – the man who _couldn't_ be James – tightened his hold on him warningly.

"I must admit, my lovelies," Abaddon murmured confidentially, stopping right in front of Sirius and reaching up to brush a strand of long, silky chestnut hair behind his ear, "That you made me most terribly frightened. I heard you yelling at each other, you see. And I was quite certain that you'd be _happy_ to see each other…but I suppose if your son just died you'd be a bit testy, wouldn't you."

"_Harry's not his son!_" screamed Sirius, his face livid with rage as he clawed madly to break free of the man's grip. "_He's a **Death Eater!**_" Abaddon cocked his head, looking faintly puzzled.

"No. No, he's really not." he said bemusedly. "He's James. Isn't it unbelievable, darling? But he's James."

"_James is –_"

"Well, he _was_ dead, darling. But now he's not. It's all rather extraordinary. But now I'm afraid I really must ask, my dears – where is little Harry?"

Sirius couldn't breathe. It was impossible – James was dead, he'd closed his eyes, it had to be a trick, it _had_ to be…

"He's dead." whispered the man – whispered _James_ – hoarsely. His voice was strangled. "He's _dead_…"

Abaddon clucked his tongue impatiently. "I know _that_, James. But where _is_ the little darling?"

"I…don't know…" choked James, his voice breaking as he buried his head in Sirius' shoulder. Sirius started, swallowing back the flood of emotions rising in his chest as Abaddon scowled and spun away, clutching his white fur cloak closer to him as he kicked Remus' prostrate body peevishly.

"Harry's behind me." whispered James, his mouth right by Sirius' ear and his voice low enough that only Sirius could hear him. "I'll try and give you two time – you have to get out of here. There's a loose brick in the wall, right by Harry – there's a wand hidden in there, you can use it to, to get back to Hogwarts, or something…"

"James –"

"I don't know if Remus and I will be able to get out," interrupted James, talking faster as Abaddon turned back around to face them again. "If we don't, if _I_ don't – promise me you'll take care of Harry." James waited, but Sirius couldn't speak. "Promise me!" hissed James furiously.

Sirius turned his head to look at James – tears were slipping silently down his face, mixing with the crimson blood still trailing from the gashes across his face, and his voice shook as he whispered, "I promise. And, and James, I –"

"I…I want to see my s-son," stammered James loudly, cutting Sirius off as Abaddon drew closer. "I want, I want…"

Abaddon rolled his eyes. "Darling, we can't _see_ him if you don't know where he _is_." he said crossly, his long, elegant fingers playing idly with the small, silver dagger tucked into his belt.

Sirius could feel rather than see James swallow. "He, he might…he might be in the other cell." he whispered brokenly.

Abaddon beamed. "Wouldn't that be nice? Shall we see, my dear?" He turned around, strolling towards the gaping, empty hole where the bars had once been. He paused before Remus, staring down at his unconscious body thoughtfully. "And perhaps we should bring the wolfie too, hmm? I think maybe he'd like that." Abaddon knelt down, grabbing Remus' arm and yanking him up with a small grunt of effort. Remus moaned softly but didn't open his eyes – Abaddon smiled brightly and looked up at James. "Come along, darling."

With slow, faltering steps James stumbled out from behind Sirius. Their hands brushed, and for the briefest of seconds James clasped Sirius' hand tightly, turning his head slightly to meet Sirius' eyes – but then he turned back, stumbling after Remus and Abaddon out of the cell.

Sirius waited until the sound of their footsteps faded away – then he sank slowly to the ground, his head swimming and his heart beating so fast it felt as though it was going to explode. Somehow, someway, that had been _James_…

His mind still whirling in shock, Sirius didn't notice the small figure inching slowly towards him from out of the shadow of the corner.

"I'm not dead."

Sirius started, his eyes growing wide as he spun around. A slender, black-haired, green-eyed boy was staring up at him through a pair of broken, wire-rimmed glasses. His eyes were red from crying and his face was pale and frightened, and even though he couldn't have been more than six or seven years old he looked so much like James that Sirius' breath caught in his throat.

"Harry?" he whispered at last, staring at the boy intently and ignoring the sharp, jabbing pain in his chest as he reached forward and gently brushed the boy's cheek with trembling fingers. The boy – Harry – nodded.

"I'm not dead." he repeated softly, looking down at the overcoat draped across his lap. Sirius nodded mutely.

"You…your, your dad said that, so they…so Abaddon wouldn't hurt you." he murmured. Harry shook his head, looking up at Sirius with eyes brimming with tears.

"My dad's dead." said Harry, his voice shaking.

Sirius could feel his heart twist inside of him, but he forced a shaky smile onto his face, dragging himself closer to the dungeon wall and scrabbling at the crumbling stone bricks with bloodied fingers. "I, I don't know, Harry, but it doesn't matter, we have to leave…"

"Well, isn't this touching. Godfather and godson, together at last. You'll have to forgive me if I don't weep from the sheer joy of it all." Sirius spun around, choking back a cry of pain as the sharp, jabbing pain in his chest escalated.

Severus Snape was standing with his arms folded in the corridor just outside the ruined entrance to the cell, managing to look at once disgusted and inanely pleased with himself. He smirked at the flabbergasted look on Sirius' face. "If you're quite done bonding…"

"_Snape!_" said Sirius, sounding completely and utterly bewildered. "What the hell are you –"

"I should have known you wouldn't stay incarcerated on that rock for long. But I must admit, exchanging one prison for another does seem to lack a bit of class…"

"What are you doing here?" hissed Sirius, pulling himself to his feet and leaning against the wall for support.

Snape sighed. "Most unfortunately – saving you."

* * *

**A/N** - Yes, I know, I have an unhealthy addiction to cliffhangers. But before you all decide to shoot me (again), may I just say in my defense that I've had most of this chapter - including the ending cliffie- planned out since the beginning. From here on out, however, I really only have a sort of...loose idea of what's going to happen. So I will try my very, very hardest to make sure the next chapter doesn't end in a cliffhanger. Okay? Promise. 

That being said...**THE BEST PRESENT YOU CAN GIVE ME FOR CHRISTMAS IS A NICE, LONG REVIEW**. Really, my friends - knowing that you guys read and enjoy my work never fails to brighten my day. And so if you've never reviewed this story before, this is your last chance in the year 2005...and there's absolutely nothing in the world that I wouldn't love more.

Special thanks to _Lisa_,_ maria_ (x2), _Blue Lycan_, _P_, _vindictivelemon_ (x2), _morgan_, and _Samantha_, my lovely anonymous reviewers. Thanks, guys! -hugs-

Next update - _Young Master Malfoy_. In which we are served to healthy doses of Snape, Sirius, Harry, and (you guessed it!) Draco. Coming soon, with any luck.

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_

Have an absolutely wonderful Christmas, and I'll see you again in 2006: )


	18. Young Master Malfoy

**A/N** - -ducks various flying vegetables- Yes, I know, I'm terrible. That horrid cliffhanger and I leave you hanging for nearly a month...I truly am ashamed of myself, my dear readers. But I'm afraid I was struck by a case of chronic-lethargy over break, and then after break was finals...which meant a whole two weeks of my life taken up by nothing but studying. Ain't life grand?

But anyways...here it is, at long last. And it's huge - nearly twice as long as my normal chapters. Which is no more than you guys deserve...42 reviews for that last chapter! -dies-. You guys are amazing...

And so, without further ado...chapter 18. Dedicated to Legolas-gurl88 and MissBlackPotter - happy belated birthday, both of you! -hugs-

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 18 – Young Master Malfoy_

_August 10, 1987_

_Severus Snape was standing with his arms folded in the corridor just outside the ruined entrance to the cell, managing to look at once disgusted and inanely pleased with himself. He smirked at the flabbergasted look on Sirius' face. "If you're quite done bonding…"_

"_**Snape!**" said Sirius, sounding completely and utterly bewildered. "What the hell are you –"_

"_I should have known you wouldn't stay incarcerated on that rock for long. But I must admit, exchanging one prison for another does seem to lack a bit of class…" _

"_What are you doing here?" hissed Sirius, pulling himself to his feet and leaning against the wall for support. _

_Snape sighed. "Most unfortunately – saving you." _

**ooooo**

Sirius stared at him. "Wha– come again?"

Snape eyed him disparagingly. "Save you, Black. And believe me – if I'd any choice in the matter I'd gladly have let you rot here with your werewolf friend and the Potter whelp." His black-eyed gaze shifted down to Harry, who had hidden himself behind Sirius and wrapped the overcoat tightly around himself, staring wide-eyed at Snape from between Sirius' legs. Snape's lip curled in a sneer. "But evidently you were falsely accused. And you know, I was so certain it had been you that gave Potter up and killed those muggles…it would have been so perfectly ironic."

"I didn't kill anyone." growled Sirius, reaching behind him with one shaking hand and groping blindly for Harry's hand.

"Yes, I think we've already established that." Snape stared coolly at Sirius for a moment. "I really do have more important things to do than saving you, Black. The only reason I'm here is because I'm certain the Headmaster would be interested to hear of your 'innocence'. And so if you'd care to move, we have to go…"

"I'm not going anywhere with you." snapped Sirius, sinking to the ground and shifting slightly to the right so that one of his hands was clasping Harry's and the other resting on one of the stone bricks protruding slightly from the wall. Snape shot him a dangerous look.

"Oh, good. I'll just leave you here then. And then when Abaddon and Lucius and the Dark Lord come down to torture you, you can tell them how I offered you a way out." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm not trying to trick you, Black. We are, most unfortunately, on the same side. And I am not going to stay here and risk my life bantering with a half-dead idiot such as yourself, so unless you and the brat move _right now_ _I will kill you myself_."

Sirius swallowed, but made no attempt to move. Snape's eyes narrowed, and he raised his wand to point straight at Sirius' heart. "I still have a score to settle with you, Black." he said softly, his black eyes boring straight into Sirius'. "But as glad as I'd be to let you die here, I also owe Potter my life. Consider my saving your sorry necks repayment."

"James didn't save you because you meant anything to him, he saved you because Moony would never have forgiven himself if you'd died." hissed Sirius, his right hand sliding lower down the wall and prying into the large crack between the loose stone brick and the rest of the wall.

"Yes, I know. Just like I'm not saving you because I particularly care, I'm saving you because the Headmaster does and because Potter saved my life on a whim elevenyears ago. We all have our faults. But don't think I'll honor that debt so far as to risk my life for yours. I'm not going to leave you here to be tortured, Black. I'm either going to help you out of this pit, or I'm going to kill you both. Gruesomely. And I'll blame it on the werewolf. Take your pick."

"If you really were on Dumbledore's side, you wouldn't kill us." said Sirius defiantly, blinking back the crimson haze of blood dripping into his eyes from the cuts across his face.

"I've been looking forward to your death since you were sixteen." said Snape silkily, glancing to the side as an indistinct jumble of voices drifted towards them from the end of the corridor, drawing steadily closer and louder. "Really, I think it would be difficult to overestimate how much I'd enjoy killing you. And unless you can make up your mind to move in precisely five seconds, then that is exactly what I am going to do."

Sirius hesitated, staring fixedly at Snape as though trying to read his mind. "Fine." he growled at last, his gaze dropping to the rough stone floor as Snape smirked. "Just wait a moment, will you…"

"We don't have a moment, Black." snapped Snape, his smirk slowly faltering as Sirius turned and began to scrabble frantically at the loose brick resting in the stone wall. Sirius ignored him, wincing as his bloodied fingers pried into the broken slate-gray mortar and dug the crumbling stone brick out of the wall.

With a soft exclamation and a sharp tug Sirius finally freed the stone from the wall – it crashed to the ground in a small cloud of chalky gray dust, cracking intricately but not breaking. Sirius grinned, wiping his face with the back of his crimson-dyed hand and reaching into the exposed cubby-hole.

Hissing softly as dust and small, chalk-like flakes of stone rose up into the still-bleeding gouges in his hand and arm, Sirius thrust his hand further into the niche. His entire body tense, he closed his eyes, ignoring Snape's pointed cough, and inched his fingers as deep into the hole as they would go.

"We have to go, Black." said Snape loudly, his wand once more raised and pointed threateningly at Sirius. "Someone's coming, in case you haven't noticed…"

"Yes, alright…got it."

Wincing as his arm scraped against the bottom of the cubby-hole, Sirius drew back, tucking the wand into the pocket of his prison robes before Snape had a chance to see it.

Ignoring the furious glare Snape was directing at him, Sirius turned around and crouched down in front of Harry. Instantly Harry's gaze dropped to the floor, but Sirius reached forward and gently lifted Harry's chin with his hand, his grey eyes seeking out Harry's.

"We've got to go now." he said softly, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. Harry shook his head, his emerald green eyes growing bright as he stared up at Sirius.

"We can't." he whispered.

Sirius looked pained. "Harry…"

"No!" insisted Harry, grabbing Sirius' hand and squeezing it so tightly Sirius felt as though his bones would break. "That man…he's evil; he, he's h-hurt Remus before and, and he'll kill them, he'll k-kill…"

"No, Harry, no…"

"He will! A-and Remus _can't_ die, he c-can't, and not James either, because you said he, you said he…"

"He's your dad." finished Sirius softly. "Yeah, he is. But Harry, I promised your dad I'd get you out of here. And if following Snape's the only way to do that, then we're going to have to follow him and let him help us out."

"B-But…"

"We're only leaving them for a little while. Once you're safe I'll come back, and I'll rescue them. Alright? I'll come back."

"But you're hurt." murmured Harry, his fingers playing gently over the cuts on Sirius' hands. Sirius forced a small laugh and shook his head dismissively.

"Nah – it's nothing, Harry. Nothing a proper Marauder can't deal with. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." insisted Harry quietly.

Sirius frowned. "Okay, maybe I'm not." he conceded. "But see, the thing is that right now that doesn't matter. Because that ugly, greasy git over there says we have to move now, and if we don't he'll…well, there's no telling what he'll do really, because when he gets mad he has a tendency to start wildly cursing everything in sight. And as amusing as that would be to watch, it would make all future rescue attempts rather difficult."

"Black!" barked Snape sharply.

"So I'll be fine, Harry." said Sirius quickly, brushing Harry's cheek distractedly with his hand and leaving a crimson smudge against his pale white skin. "And Remus and…and James will be fine too, but only if we leave right now…" Pushing himself to his feet, Sirius stifled a moan of pain and leaned against the wall, his teeth gritted as he pulled Harry up after him. Managing a tight-lipped smile, he waited until Harry had pulled the faded and torn overcoat over his shoulders like an over-sized cloak and then bent down and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, as much to support himself as anything.

"Right. Now listen, Harry, 'cause this is important – when you were born your parents made me your godfather. And I know I've done a pretty lousy job of it, but…well, for what it's worth I'm sorry, but besides that…look, you know…" Sirius waved his free hand enigmatically. Harry stared at him in confusion.

"Know what?"

"Oh, sod it." muttered Sirius under his breath, his wan, hallowed cheeks flushing slightly. "Look, I know this probably doesn't mean anything because you don't remember me at all and you probably think I'm a deranged lunatic or, or a madman, or something but…but what I'm _trying_ to say, Harry, is that I love you and I am so, so sorry I wasn't there for you because I should have been, I really should have and even though I know I can never make it up to you I'll try to because, because…Merlin, this is coming out all wrong…"

"It's okay." murmured Harry softly, suddenly looking much older than seven as he gazed understandingly at Sirius.

"Really?" whispered Sirius, his voice filled with quiet desperation as he stared anxiously at Harry. Harry nodded, and smiled slightly. After a moment Sirius smiled back, and drew in a deep breath.

"Right. Let's go, then."

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp, jabbing pain in his ribs as he reached behind him and gently propelled Harry forward.

"Finally bothered yourself to move, Black?" growled Snape harshly, thrusting out his arm as Harry and Sirius drew even with him and cutting them off. "Your timing is, as ever, impeccable. Do you hear that?" Before Sirius had a chance to move away Snape, his face chalk white and contorted in utter fury, grabbed Sirius' arm and yanked him forward. Sirius cried out softly, recoiling as Snape's fingers dug into one of the cuts running parallel down his arm. "That would be the sound of a score of Death Eaters, marching their way down to the dungeons right now." he hissed, nodding his head towards the ancient, earthy stairway hidden in the constant gloom of the dungeon passageway. "And _that_," He spun Sirius around, his fingers tightening their hold as Sirius whimpered involuntarily, "Is the sound of someone else approaching us from down the passage. Apparently someone neglected to mention the fact that somebody was already down here…"

Resisting the urge to spin around and punch Snape in the face, Sirius closed his eyes and hissed through gritted teeth, "Jugson. Abaddon Jugson's down here. He's got Remus, and…and that's all."

Snape's hold on Sirius' arm loosened very slightly. "That's all, is it? You're sure?"

Sirius hesitated for the briefest of seconds. "Yes, that's it." he snapped finally. "Now get your filthy, greasy hands off of me…"

Snape scowled, his grip tightening once more. "Listen." he whispered, his voice harsh and commanding. Sirius fell silent, his eyes narrowed as he stared ahead and pointedly avoided meeting Snape's eyes. "There is a secret passageway, beginning in the torture chamber." continued Snape, not seeming at all perturbed by Sirius' stony silence. "It ends in the treasure chamber, just off the Great Hall. The Dark Lord will be missing me shortly, if not already – once the passage is through you're on your own."

"Why not just leave us now, then?" muttered Sirius stumbling forward as Snape jerked on his arm and began striding forward.

"Because you couldn't manage the passageway by yourself, Black." said Snape, his voice colored by the barest hint of smugness. "Now shut up and move."

Sirius' deadened gray eyes flashed, but he stopped talking and instead reached behind him with his right hand, finding Harry's hand and grasping it tightly with his own.

For a few moments they walked silently, the sound of the Death Eaters on the stairs and Abaddon's soft, silky voice growing painfully louder with every step they took. Finally Snape stopped, releasing his grip on Sirius' arm as he ran his hands over the apparently normal stone wall. He whispered something, his voice just low enough that Sirius couldn't hear him, and tapped his wand twice on the blank stone wall.

It was as though the wall had been covered by a curtain, which now fell away to reveal an ornate, heavy-looking wooden door flanked by a pair of massive, granite pillars. Sirius could hear Harry gasp softly behind him, and his grip on Harry's hand tightened.

"In." said Snape curtly, shoving the door open and then moving to the side, his wand pointed threateningly at Sirius as Sirius edged around him, stumbling into the room. Harry hurried after him – Snape paused for a moment, glancing to either side before slipping through the doorway and slamming the door shut behind him.

As soon as Sirius had set foot in the room bracketed torches had sputtered to life, throwing the otherwise bare room into a mess of shadow and flickering torchlight. "Obfirmo." said Snape smoothly, pointing his wand at the door – an elaborate metal lock, shaped like a twisting, exquisitely knotted Celtic dragon, slid obediently into place.

"Are we allowed to speak now?" asked Sirius loudly, falling heavily to the floor and glaring balefully up at Snape as he stalked past, headed towards a small, almost decayed wooden cabinet shoved out of sight against the far wall. Snape ignored him, bending down and pulling open the cabinet. What looked like centuries of dust and decay spilled out onto the floor, forming a noxious purple cloud around Snape; seemingly undaunted, Snape pulled his robes up to his face and began riffling through the cabinet.

"Barking mad." muttered Sirius, slowly easing himself down onto the floor until he was propped up on his elbows, his legs stretched out and his eyes closed. He could hear Harry sink to the ground beside him, and he cracked his eyes open and turned slightly to smile wanly at his godson. "Feeling alright?"

Harry's face was parchment-white, his green eyes wide and filled with tears that he was refusing to let fall. "Yes." he whispered, staring intently at down at his lap and avoiding Sirius' eyes. Unable to think of anything to say, Sirius just pushed himself up until he was sitting side-by-side with Harry. "Your hair's just like your dad's, you know that?" he said at last, reaching up and trying vainly to smooth Harry's unruly jet black hair. "If it wasn't for your eyes you'd look just like a miniature Prongs."

Harry shook his head, still gazing fixedly down at his lap. "My dad's brave." he whispered softly, almost too softly for Sirius to hear. "And I'm…" He finally looked up and met Sirius eyes, and Sirius saw that there were tear tracks winding down his face. "I'm scared." he finished, his voice trembling.

Unable to speak, Sirius just smoothed Harry's hair down again. "Harry, you're one of the bravest people I know." he stated quietly, finding his voice at last. "You and Remus and, and your dad…you all put me to shame, you really do…"

"You were brave against him." murmured Harry, his gaze darting briefly towards where Snape was still hunched over the cabinet, digging through its contents and muttering furiously to himself. "And against Remus, when he was…when he…"

"I was scared when Remus was a werewolf, Harry." Sirius said gently, wiping absently at a trickle of blood creeping slowly down his face. "And against Snape, well…he's just an ugly, sour old git." His gaze turned meditatively towards the corner, where Snape was finally standing up, a delicate-looking glass vial in his hand and a brief look of triumph flashing in his eyes. "Really, Harry, there's not much to be afraid of there."

Harry managed a weak smile as Snape strode back towards them, his black robes snapping out behind him and his boots tapping sharply against the stone floor. "Drink this." he snapped abruptly, stopping before Sirius and dangling the vial before his face.

Sirius made a face, reaching up reluctantly and snatching the vial out of Snape's hands. "What is it?"

"A regenerative potion. It will keep you alive long enough for you to reach Hogwarts."

"Oh, well, that's alright, then." muttered Sirius darkly, bringing the vial up to his face and squinting suspiciously at the clear, silvery potion sloshing half-heartedly around inside. "And after we arrive at Hogwarts…No, never mind. I don't want to know. It's probably something really nasty, isn't it?"

"As eloquent as ever, Black. It's good to see Azkaban hasn't dulled your sharp wit in the slightest."

"Oh, shut up." Still grumbling under his breath, Sirius brought the vial up to his mouth and pulled the stopper out with his teeth. "Right. Here's to us, then." His voice was light but his eyes were distant, almost as though he were talking to someone else entirely. He gave one last sigh before flinging his head back, upturning the vial over his open mouth and downing the potion in one gulp.

For a moment nothing happened. Sirius shot Snape a murderous look, tossing the empty vial over his shoulder and clambering to his feet. "Well, that worked out well, didn't it? So if we can be moving now…" His voice trailed off as he noticed the look on Snape's face – Snape was eyeing him intently and yet at the same time detachedly, almost as though he, Sirius, were a particularly interesting potions experiment…almost involuntarily Sirius looked down, gave a soft cry, and fell heavily to the floor.

His skin was glowing faintly in the flickering semi-darkness of the chamber. Deep, scarlet gashes still oozing with blood were quickly being laced over with delicate, burgundy scabs – bones were resetting themselves, the skin above them bubbling and contorting surreally, and smaller, superficial scratches had already disappeared back into unblemished skin.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak but found he couldn't say anything; he settled instead for glaring furiously at Snape, his gray eyes suddenly alive and lit with a swirling mixture of anger and fear.

And then, quite suddenly, it was all over. The dim, golden aura of light surrounding Sirius faded into nothing, and with a sharp, sudden cry Sirius lurched to his feet, clapping one hand over his eyes and wrapping his other arm around his waist – he was almost doubled over, his breath coming in great, wheezing gasps as he leaned against the rough stone wall, his skin pale and slick in the flickering torchlight.

"What the – _hell_ – was that?" he gasped, staring at Snape from between a crack in his fingers. Even in the shadowed, shifting torchlight his eyes were shining, the deadened, shuttered look Azkaban had give them fallen away and replaced with a bright, piercing light. It was as though the dim golden aura that had surrounded him had retreated back into his eyes and intensified, filling them with a liquid, brilliant glow. "That was…you…"

"Fascinating." murmured Snape, gazing at Sirius in open admiration. "The longer the potion sits the greater its effects, of course…but that it was powerful enough to begin mending Azkaban, it must have been brewed centuries ago…"

"Care to explain?" growled Sirius, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his grip on his waist as he took a few hobbling steps forward.

"The regenerative effects of the potion increase directly with the amount of time it spends unused." said Snape slowly, still half-talking to himself. "Normally it would be able to heal the lighter scratches, nothing more…I had wondered how long it had been in the cabinet, of course, but this…"

"Made me your ruddy guinea pig, did you?" snapped Sirius venomously. A moment later, however, a pained look crossed his face, and he moaned. "Merlin, I think I'm going to be sick…"

"You poisoned him!" stammered Harry, his emerald green eyes wide as he stared disbelievingly up at Snape. "You _poison_–"

Snape waved his hand brusquely. "Waste a centuries old potion to kill him? Hardly."

"Don't listen to him, Harry; he's a lying bas–"

"We don't have time for this, Black." said Snape loudly, cutting Sirius off. His eyes had lost their thoughtful look – he was gazing at Sirius impatiently, his black eyes flashing as Sirius moaned again. "We need to leave before anyone discovers you and Potter have gone."

Sirius was slowly straightening, the hand shielding his face dropping to his side as he grimaced. "If it weren't for Remus and J– and _Harry_, I'd kill you now." he whispered mutinously, walking slowly forward.

Snape shot him a disparaging look, his mouth curled in scowl as he turned around, shoving Harry roughly to the side as he stalked to the far side of the chamber. "Touching. Now stop complaining and follow me."

"You keep your greasy hands off of Harry." snarled Sirius, straightening and glaring furiously at Snape. Snape ignored him but Harry, his face flushing, grabbed Sirius' free hand and tugged it urgently.

"Something's happening to the door," he whispered, his gaze darting between Sirius and the front of the chamber.

"Smug bastard. If he touches you again Harry, I swear I'll –"

"Something's happening to the door!" repeated Harry, his voice growing shriller as he tried to physically turn Sirius around. "Look, just look…"

The dragon lock was glowing scarlet, writhing back and forth as though trying to tear itself from the wall as the door it held shut rattled and shook furiously on its hinges. Sirius, his throat suddenly dry, swallowed and took an involuntary step backwards.

"Oh, shit…"

"Black! I told you, we have to move." Snape had turned around, his eyes flashing as he swung around, beginning to stalk back towards Sirius and Harry – but then he stopped dead, his face suddenly stiffening as he saw the lock burning and convulsing in the ancient wooden door.

"Move." he spat, the word ground out of his mouth as he stared fixedly at the door. Harry began to edge past him but Sirius didn't so much as twitch, his arm hanging loosely around his waist as he just stared at the door. "_Now_, Black." hissed Snape.

Sirius looked up at him, almost as through a daze. "We can't leave…" he whispered uncertainly, his voice breaking as his gaze darted between the door and Snape. Snape's face darkened, and his eyes narrowed.

"**_Now._**"

Sirius hesitated for a second more – and then he swallowed, nodding mutely as he turned around and stumbled after Harry.

Half-hidden in the shadows of the farthest corner was a crumbling stone archway, its façade cracked and worn with time. Beyond it was a tunnel – it was pitch-black, blacker than anything Sirius had ever seen, and the cold, musty air creeping slowly from it reeked of time and disuse.

Harry was standing just outside of the archway, clutching the overcoat tightly to himself as he stared wide-eyed down the tunnel. Sirius noticed, distantly, that Harry didn't have any shoes on.

Harry turned to smile weakly at him as he approached. "We're going through there, aren't we."

"Yeah," murmured Sirius, staring at the archway and the tunnel beyond it with dazed eyes. "Yeah…but listen, whatever happens you stay by me, alright?" Harry nodded, hesitated a moment, and then slowly reached up and clasped Sirius' hand.

"We're going to see them again, aren't we?" Harry whispered, biting his lower lip as he stared pleadingly up at Sirius.

Sirius didn't answer, but after a moment squeezed Harry's hand bracingly. "Yeah. 'Course we are."

Snape was striding back towards them, a hunted look on his face as he stopped just short of the archway, pivoting around and raising his wand to point at the door. "Go into the tunnel." he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "Just far enough that you can still see the light from the room."

Sirius didn't argue, but with one last backward glance at the door pushed Harry forward into the tunnel, striding after him into the darkness.

The blackness in the tunnel was absolute. It pressed around Sirius, almost tangible and suffocating – his quick strides grew shorter and faltering as the small sliver of light behind him faded slowly into oily-black darkness. At last he stopped altogether, sinking to the ground and closing his eyes as he tried to steady his quick, shallow breathing.

Harry sank down beside him, still clasping Sirius' hand tightly as he gazed unseeingly at him in the surrounding darkness. "I can't see the room anymore." he whispered at last, his voice muffled as he burrowed into Sirius' side. Sirius opened his eyes, but needn't have bothered – the darkness around him was, if anything, blacker than it had been when his eyes were closed.

"Snape's coming." said Sirius, his voice falling thin and hollow in the blackness. "He'll be here any second now, and then we can keep going…" Sirius' voice trailed off into nothing as sudden doubt crept into his mind.

Why would Snape be here, wherever here was, if he weren't a Death Eater? He had no reason to help them, he'd already threatened to kill them…this had to be some sort of elaborate trap; Snape was going to lead them right to Voldemort and turn them in, he'd never intended to help them, he was probably down there killing Remus and James right now…

"I _told_ you to stay in sight of the room!"

Sirius' eyes snapped open. Snape was bending down in front of him, the end of his wand glowing brightly as he stared at Sirius with a mixed expression of anger and – inexplicably – worry on his face.

"You…you're a Death Eater!" spluttered Sirius breathlessly, scrambling to his feet as Snape straightened, his face schooled back into a look of thinly veiled distaste.

"Yes."

"And you're lying to us, you're going to take us to Voldemort –" Snape flinched at the mention of his name.

"Go to all of the trouble of rescuing you only to hand you in now? You really are as stupid as you look, aren't you." Snape tried to sound harsh, but his voice was traced with unease. "I told you, I'm on your side. Now we have to keep moving…and this time at least _try_ to listen to me, would you?"

Snape waited until Harry clambered to his feet, still clutching Sirius' hand tightly – and then he began to stride down the tunnel, his lit wand held high in the air and pulsing gently with soft, silver-white light. As he passed the darkness seemed to shrink against itself, curling away to provide a path for him.

"This passage was built centuries ago." he said after a while, seemingly out of nowhere. "When the manor was first built. The workers who built the manor were muggles, and so this was used as an escape shaft in the case of cave-ins…but the engineer was a wizard, and after the dungeons were constructed he used this passage as a sort of testing ground for the enchantments and wards he later put up on the manor grounds." Snape glanced sideways at Sirius, as though to be sure he was listening. "Whoever the engineer was, he was clever – he used spells to defend the passageway against time. The enchantments he tested here are as strong now as they were on the day they were cast."

"So this is some sort of obstacle course we're going into, is it?" muttered Sirius, staring straight ahead and purposefully avoiding Snape's eyes. Snape smiled thinly.

"It's a death trap, Black."

Sirius stopped dead, grabbing Snape's arm and jerking him sharply around. "And you've brought us here to kill us yourself, is that it? You tricked us into –"

"No." stated Snape coldly, yanking his arm free of Sirius' grip. "You're under an enchantment, Black."

"I– what?"

"The darkness is magical. It's filling your mind with doubt. Ignore it."

"What are you talking about?" said Sirius angrily, ripping his hand free of Harry's grip and grabbing Snape's collar, glaring at him furiously in the faint, whitish light coming from Snape's wand. Harry whimpered softly, but both Sirius and Snape ignored him.

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem so much angry as annoyed. "This is your first 'obstacle', Black." he said softly, his voice quiet but venomous. "And should you fall apart now, as I know you are all too eager to do when things become the slightest bit difficult for you, then you might as well turn around and hand yourself into Jugson now."

"Are you calling me a coward?" growled Sirius, his face thrust to within an inch of Snape's.

"Yes, I am." said Snape, sounding rather pleased that Sirius' had picked up on this so quickly. Then, as Sirius' grip on his collar tightened, he added languidly, "The potion worked, didn't it?"

Sirius froze. "The side effects will have worn away by now." Snape continued, the barest hint of a smirk coloring his voice. "And I'd imagine you feel better now than you have for six years. Now really, Black…would I bother restoring you to the prime of your pathetic life only to drag you in here, risking my neck even more than yours on some useless attempt at murder? Hardly." Sirius' grip on Snape's robes was slowly loosening – with a scowl Snape shoved Sirius away from him, straightening his robes and raising his wand once more. "The tunnel ends soon. Until then, ignore whatever petty doubts manage to worm their way through your thick skull and follow me."

He swiveled around and continued to stride down the tunnel – Sirius remained where he was for a moment, his face distant and tense as though he were wrestling with his own thoughts. At last he sighed heavily, bending down to grab Harry's hand. Harry clasped his hand gently but didn't meet his eyes – Sirius, distracted, didn't notice, but straightened and strode into the darkness after Snape. Within a few moments the glow from Snape's wand faded into nothing, and the tunnel was as silent and still as before.

**ooooo**

Sirius yawned, sinking to the ground and closing his eyes. He felt as though he'd been walking for hours – the tunnel had ended over an hour ago, leading into another passageway that was equally as black but somehow less oppressive. That passage had led into another had led into another, until finally they'd exited into a massive underground cavern.

Gigantic stalactites glittered hundreds of feet over their heads, sparkling like stone icicles in the crisp morning sunlight falling into the cavern from a series of holes in the ceiling. Stalagmites rose from the ground like massive crystalline pillars, several of them nearly brushing the ceiling as faint, almost inaudible strains of birdsong drifted through the lazy golden air.

Sirius, his back propped up against a mammoth stone stalagmite and his legs sprawled out in front of him, cracked his eyes open and turned his head slightly to grin conspiratorially at his godson. Harry was stretched out next to him, his emerald green eyes sparkling happily and a faint smile tugging at his lips as he gazed out into nothing. Sirius reached out and gently brushed a wayward strand of jet-black hair out of Harry's eyes – Harry turned to grin at him, and Sirius' smile grew wider in response.

His hand still resting lightly on Harry's head, Sirius turned to gaze across the clear, crystalline lake that stretched across the cavern. The water sparkled brightly in the late morning sunlight, catching and reflecting the sun beams that fell into the cavern. It was clearer than glass, so clear that even fifty feet down every pebble and stretch of sand was as visible as if the bottom had been four feet away. It stretched to the end of the cavern, and at its far end an indistinct black figure that Sirius knew almost instinctively was Snape picked its way through the rubble of some long ago cave-in. As Sirius watched Snape tripped and lost his balance, falling with a loud splash into the subterranean lake.

Sirius laughed, stretching and getting to his feet with cat-like grace. With easy, loping strides he walked toward the edge of the lake, sure-footed on the smooth, dry ground. As he drew nearer he slowed, and then finally drew to a stop at the very edge of the water.

The laughter had died off of his face, replaced with a distant, pensive expression. He glanced down at the water at his feet, a troubled expression passing over his face – the water sparkled innocently up at him, and his face cleared. Bending down, he cupped his hands and dipped them into the water – it was crisp but not cold, glittering like liquid diamonds as it flowed around his hands. The weariness and the restlessness in Sirius' shoulders dropped away like a particularly heavy cloak – all of the memories of the past few days drifted just out of reach, like memories of a bad but half-forgotten nightmare…Everything around him was suddenly fuzzy and indistinct except for the water sliding around his submerged hands like silk. His throat was dry, and the water was suddenly the most tempting and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life…

He raised his cupped hands to his mouth, and closed his eyes.

"**_Black!_**"

He yelped, his eyes flying open and the crystalline water flying everywhere as he fell backwards. Someone had screamed his name at him, practically in his ear – but there was only Harry, all but asleep behind him, and Snape, flailing in the water at the other of the cavern.

Sirius hesitated a moment, then whispered softly, "Hello?"

No one answered – Sirius glanced once more around the cavern, then back down at the water swirling gently around his feet. It was so inviting – just one drink, just enough to ease his throat, and then they could leave the cavern and keep going down the passageway…

He lowered his cupped hands back into the water, and then raised them to his lips.

"**_BLACK!_**"

This time he was half-expecting it. He jumped to his feet, the water from his hands splashing down the front of his shirt as he scrambled at his waist for the wand that somehow he knew should be there. "Who's there?" he shouted, raising his clenched fists when he couldn't find the wand and taking a step backwards, into the water. It lapped welcomingly, almost protectively around his ankles. "Who are you!"

His only response was his own voice, echoing and reechoing in the domed cavern. Sirius took another step backward – the water was almost to his knees.

"_I can hear you!"_ he shouted, his eyes darting from side to side as his voice echoed hollowly. Neither Snape nor Harry were paying any attention to him – panicking, Sirius tried to swivel around but slipped; his arms flailed wildly as he tried to right himself, but it was too late.

With a deafening splash he fell into the water.

The bottom should have been barely two feet below him – he wasn't more than knee-deep in the lake, and he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of his head against stone…but the collision never came.

It was as though he was falling into an endless sea of water – there was water on every side of him, pressing in on him and suffocating him…he couldn't tell which way was up anymore, he couldn't move – the water was stifling him, turning his body to ice, and when he opened his mouth to scream it rushed into his body with the force of an angry dragon…

"_Sirius!_"

He could hear someone screaming in his ear, and a sudden warmth filled his body as someone grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the water…

With a shuddering gasp Sirius opened his eyes.

The cavern and the lake had disappeared. He was lying in a passageway, its sides roughly hewn out of rock and its floor paved with crudely shaped stones. Two people were leaning over him – Sirius closed his eyes again, fighting back the violent nausea rising in his throat, and whispered through cracked lips, "Harry?"

He could hear Harry choke back a sob, and a second later he was engulfed in a massive bear hug. "W-we, we thought you w-w-were _dead_…" Harry stammered, clinging to Sirius tightly as though afraid that, any moment now, he would disappear. "You just, you j-just went all rigid and, and…"

"I was in a cavern…" whispered Sirius dazedly, raising a trembling hand to absentmindedly brush Harry's hair. "And there was a lake…"

"You fell into a trance as soon as we entered this passageway." said Snape coolly, getting to his feet and brushing imaginary dust off of the cuff of his sleeves. "Incompetently weak-willed, as usual." He tried to say it scathingly, but his voice lacked its usual bite – he sounded shaken. "Had you remained in your little illusion for ten seconds more, you would have died."

Sirius' eyes flew open. "The water!" he said urgently, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "It, it was trying to drown me…"

Snape, his composure fast returning, ignored him. "We have to keep moving." he said silkily, reaching down to grab Sirius' forearm and yanking him to his feet. "We've lingered here too long already."

Sirius gasped as the world spun crazily before him – the ground was spinning and tilting dizzyingly below him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the urge to retch as he broke free of Snape's grip and stumbled backwards into the stone wall. The wall was moist and cool to the touch – Sirius pressed his forehead up against it, breathing in deeply and trying desperately to steady the world around him.

"I thought that bloody potion of yours was supposed to clear this up." Sirius rasped at last, his eyes still shut tightly and his forehead pressed against the wonderfully damp stone wall. He could hear Snape harrumph quietly behind him, and he smiled thinly.

"You're lucky it worked as well as it did." muttered Snape darkly, seizing Sirius' arm and pulling him firmly – though not ungently – away from the wall. "If it hadn't you'd be dead now."

Sirius grunted uninterestedly, trying halfheartedly to pull away from Snape. Experimentally he opened his eyes – the world had stopped its frenetic spinning, and his shoulders slumped as he relaxed.

"You were in my…my trance, or dream, or whatever it was." he murmured at last, turning his head slightly to glance at Snape as they continued down the passageway. Snape snorted mirthlessly.

"I'm flattered."

Sirius smiled dreamily. "Yeah…you tripped over a rock and fell into the water. You were flailing around and all but drowning…It was great."

Snape's sneer quickly turned into a scowl as Harry, trotting after them on Sirius' other side, laughed. "As I recall," he snapped nastily, his grip on Sirius' arm tightening as his pace quickened, "You all but died drowning in an imaginary lake."

Sirius flushed. "Yes, well…I didn't." he retorted haughtily, his voice breaking into a hacking cough as they drew to a halt. The passageway had broken into two, one way leading directly to the left and the other to the right. In front of them was nothing but an empty stone wall, unadorned except for an empty, rusted torch bracket hung by a few crumbling nails in the center of the wall.

"Which way do we go?" asked Harry quietly, his eyes darting up to glance at Sirius' face before, tentatively, he reached up and gently grasped Sirius' hand.

Snape ignored him – he was staring unblinkingly at the empty, rusted sconce in the middle of the wall, his black eyes narrowed in concentration. Sirius carefully unwound his hand from Harry's and wound his free arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling his godson closer as he waited silently for Snape.

Minutes passed by – at last, impatience getting the best of him, Sirius blurted out, "Well? Left or right, then?"

At first Snape didn't answer – and then finally he turned around, his eyes flashing briefly as he replied curtly, "Left. For now." Tightening his grip on Sirius' arm once more, he turned and began to stride quickly down the left passageway, Sirius and Harry hurrying to keep up with him.

"'For now?'" prompted Sirius, as they rounded a bend in the crumbling passageway. This passage was earthier than any they'd been in before – it smelled rich and loamy, and the steady dripping of water up ahead broke the silence of the warren-like tunnel. The floor, though paved with roughly cut stone, was coated in thick, watery mud that squelched underfoot as they passed. "What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

Snape sighed deprecatingly. "It means that the left passage is the one that will lead us out."

Sirius resisted the urge to kick Snape in the shins. "Yes, well, thanks for clearing that up, then." he grumbled sarcastically, kicking one of the small pebbles that littered the ground peevishly. It skittered to the side, disappearing into the blackness surrounding the edges of the passage, and he grinned. "Y'know," he said musingly, glancing meaningfully at Snape, "I think I know what the first thing I'm going to do once we get out of this pit is."

"With any luck, keel over and die." muttered Snape under his breath, his voice just loud enough for Sirius to hear him. Sirius, much to Snape's chagrin, laughed.

"I'm going to take a bath." Sirius said decisively, his free arm sliding off Harry's shoulders as he reached down to clasp Harry's hand.

"Yes, well, you certainly need one." grumbled Snape, his fingers digging into Sirius' arm and his stride quickening.

"Yeah, exactly. My hair's almost as greasy as yours now, isn't it?"

Snape stopped dead, his face darkening as he spun Sirius around and raised his illuminated wand to within an inch of Sirius' temple. His black eyes were narrowed and flashing as he stared intently at Sirius face – and then with a snarl of disgust he shoved Sirius away from him, swearing under his breath as he raised his wrist and lowered his wand to point straight at Sirius' heart.

"I thought it might just be your trademark stupidity, Black." he growled, advancing on Sirius and forcing him back against the passage wall. "I wouldn't have put it past you to have such complete disregard for our tenuous situation…but no. You had to let the potion get to you, didn't you? Anyone else but you…"

"What the hell are you on about?" asked Sirius, completely bewildered. Snape's eyes narrowed further.

"You were the only one to be truly affected by the darkness in the first tunnel we went through. You were the only one who fell into a trance in the passageway we just left. And you are the only one, Black, who thinks it's _funny_ to make a joke of our situation." He took a step closer to Sirius, and the tip of his wand brushed Sirius' chest. "You let the potion get to your head, didn't you?"

"_What are you talking about?_" said Sirius again, his voice growing angry and his grey eyes narrowing. Harry was standing between them, his emerald green eyes wide as his gaze darted back and forth between them.

"The potion I gave you…you let it take control of you." Snape whispered, his voice soft but deadly. "It gave so much to your body that it left you even more of a bumbling, half-brained idiot than before."

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "'As I recall,'" he mimicked spitefully, "_You_ were the one that gave me that bloody potion."

"The objective," hissed Snape, through gritted teeth, "Was to keep you lucid enough to get out of here more or less alive. And unless you stop acting like you are fifteen years old, that is not going to happen."

Sirius rolled his eyes, shoving Snape's wand aside impatiently. "Yes, alright. I'll behave."

Snape scowled, but took a step back and allowed Sirius to get fully to his feet. "Yes, Black, you will. Because I don't have the slightest intention of dying as a result of your stupidity, least of all on your behalf."

"Wonderful. Then let's get out of here, shall we?" Sirius began to step around Snape, reaching down for Harry's hand – but before he could Harry, his face suddenly drained of color, grabbed Sirius' hand urgently and dragged him down to ear-level.

"There's something wrong!" he whispered, his grip on Sirius' hand growing tighter and tighter as he stared up at Sirius in fear. "The, the water…" He swallowed, his gaze darting briefly up to Snape's expressionless face. "It's louder, and closer…"

The steady dripping of water had grown faster and faster until now it was a low, deep rush, rumbling like a giant waterfall up ahead. As Harry, his face parchment-white, stared urgently at Sirius, the floor of the passageway began to tremble, and small showers of earthy brown dust fell from the ceiling.

Sirius swore under his breath. "Right. Any brilliant ideas now, Snape?" He caught himself as the floor shook again, and looked expectantly up at Snape.

But Snape wasn't looking at him – he was staring down the corridor, a faintly bemused expression on his face. "This didn't happen before…" he said slowly, balancing perfectly on the still-roiling ground.

"Improvise, then!" shouted Sirius, as the sound of rushing water grew into a cacophony. He pulled Harry protectively against his chest, hunkering down and leaning against the wall as the tunnel shook as though in an earthquake.

"No…no, I can't." said Snape musingly, his voice somehow carrying through the din to Sirius and Harry. "You're doing this, Black. Think of something else."

"What the _hell_ are you on about now?"

Quite suddenly Snape was by Sirius' side, the silvery-white light still pouring from his wand throwing his face into sharp relief. Sirius peered up at him through the storm of russet-colored dust and soil falling like rain from the ceiling. Snape looked, if anything, rather impressed with himself.

"You almost died in your imaginary lake. You were just talking of talking a bath. And now we hear the sound of a veritable sea of water, about to collapse on our heads. You're the one with the weakest defenses, the passageway conjured it out of your head. Now think of something not in the least deadly, so we can keep going."

Sirius gawped at him. "_What?_! No, I…that's _insane_…"

"It's genius, Black. Now think of…" Snape waved his hand vaguely. "Kittens. Solid ground. The least threatening image that that thick-skulled head of yours can come up with."

The sound of rushing water was growing closer, and Sirius closed his eyes against the sight of Snape's smirking face, illuminated by the steady glow from his wand. "You're a real bastard, you know that?" he muttered, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry trying vainly to calm his racing heart. "Right…kittens…"

For a moment the rushing sound flared, and Sirius recoiled, gasping involuntarily at the sound of ten thousand tons of water, crashing down onto their heads…but then the noise gradually receded back into a faint, steady trickle, and the violent tremors racking the ground faded into nothing.

Sirius cracked his eyes open, and looked around.

Everything was coated in a fine layer of sorrel-colored dust. His prison robes, once a dull, faded gray, were now reddish-brown, and when he ran his fingers through his matted hair they came away coated in earthy dust.

Fighting back the urge to cough, Sirius got stiffly to his feet and pulled Harry up after him. "I hate this place." he muttered, vainly trying to brush the rust-colored dirt off of Harry. Harry looked as though he was beyond exhaustion – his face was a pale, bloodless white, and there were dark circles under his overly bright emerald green eyes. He smiled wanly at Sirius, and reached up to brush the dust off of the bridge of Sirius' nose. Sirius noticed, with a pang, that his hands were trembling.

"But once we get out of here we can go back and find Remus and my dad." whispered Harry softly, his eyes seeking out Sirius' questioningly. "Right?"

Sirius nodded, and forced a smile. "Right." he confirmed softly, capturing Harry's hands and squeezing them gently. "And we can get rid of this greasy git too, all in one go." Harry laughed weakly and Sirius, giving Harry's hands one final squeeze, got to his feet. "Right. Let's get out of here, then."

**ooooo**

"We're here." announced Snape suddenly, stopping dead in the middle of the passageway and thrusting out his arm to stop Sirius and Harry from walking past him.

Sirius looked up tiredly – they had stopped in front of a solid stone wall, bare and gray except for a rusting metal sconce in the center of the wall. The passageway broke off to either side of it – one way lead to the left, the other to the right. Sirius' eyes widened.

"We've been here before!" he said confusedly, his voice a low, tired rasp. "We've _been_ here –"

"So it would seem." said Snape flatly, cutting him off as he took a step forward and ran his hands along the crumbling stone wall. He paused for a second as his hands brushed the ancient torch bracket, and then smiled predatorily. He waved his wand, and quite suddenly the silvery-white light shining from its tip was extinguished.

The passageway was plunged into absolute, chilling darkness. Sirius bit back a gasp and fumbled at his side for Harry's hand – finding it, he pulled Harry to his side and wrapped his arm tightly around Harry's thin, shuddering shoulders.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he barked angrily at Snape, his voice echoing hollowly in the pitch-black corridor. Snape didn't answer, and Sirius, exhausted and suddenly furious, took a step forward. "I _said_, 'what are you –'"

As if in answer a whip of brilliant, topaz light shot out of the air where Snape was standing, beating and pulsing frenetically as it snapped with a deafening _crack_. Sirius cried out , stumbling back and nearly tripping as he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden brightness – a moment later, however, the arc of brilliant golden light faded against the back of his eyelids, and opened his eyes.

Snape was standing in the middle of an archway, an archway that stood where a moment ago there had been nothing but an ancient stone wall. Faint grayish light trickled reluctantly past the cobbled stones, softly illuminating the words that were suddenly etched on the side of the archway, as though they had been carved there by an invisible hand.

Sirius took a wondering step forward. "What…what did you…"

"We have to go now." said Snape smoothly, turning to the side so that his back covered the engraved words. "The portal is unstable, it won't remain active for long."

"What…? You– we have to walk through that?"

"It is an archway, Black. One is supposed to walk through it. _Now go_."

Sirius glanced between the mist-like gray light pouring gelatinously through the archway and the expression on Snape's face, and took a few hesitating steps forward. "And once we're through we're done? This, this 'death-trap' of yours is over?"

"Nearly." The archway seemed to shudder for a moment, the gray light recoiling slightly, and Snape's voice sharpened. "_Now_, Black."

Sirius hesitated for a moment more – and then he reached down to grasp Harry's hand, taking a deep breath before he closed his eyes and stepped through the archway.

There was rushing sound, like air blasting past his ears – he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, his grip on Harry's hand tightening as the rushing grew to a dull roar. The air was heavy and wet – dampness clung to him, soaking through his thin prison robes and chilling his very bones until his body felt too heavy to move…the air was growing heavier, pressing down on him until he couldn't breathe, and he was afraid to open his mouth but desperate for air…

"Sirius!"

With a gasp he opened his eyes.

He was lying on his back in the middle of a small antechamber. In front of him was a well-masoned stone wall, exactly like the one they'd just passed through except that it was completely bare – no rusted torch bracket hung in the center. To his right and behind him were smoothed stone walls, their sides shining slickly in the steady silver light pouring from Snape's wand. Snape was leaning with his back up against one of the natural stone walls , his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. Sirius turned his head slightly – Harry had pushed himself to his feet next to him, swaying slightly as he stared shakily at Sirius.

"You…you're alright…" he whispered unsteadily, as Sirius pushed himself slowly to his knees. "S-Sirius…" With a choked sob Harry stumbled forward, falling into Sirius' arms and burying his head in Sirius' shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm s-s-sorry…"

Sirius shushed him, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his still-erratic breathing. "I'm fine, Harry…I'm fine…" Harry didn't answer, but threw his arms around Sirius' neck and held onto him as tightly as he could. Sirius opened his eyes, staring at Snape from over the top of Harry's head. Snape had moved to stand in the entrance to another passageway, his black eyes unreadable as he gazed at Sirius and Harry. As Sirius caught his eye, he said brusquely, "This passage leads directly to the treasure chamber, just off the great hall. I don't know whether or not there are still Death Eaters in the great hall, but the fireplaces are still blocked out of the floo network and there will be anti-appartion wards set up over the entire house. If you can find an unused room, stay there until the floo network is back and then go to Hogwarts. I will inform the headmaster that you are to be…expected."

"When?" asked Sirius quietly, his arms wrapped tightly around Harry but his eyes focused on Snape.

"Tomorrow, or the day after. I don't know." With that he turned, his black robes billowing around him as he began to stride down the corridor.

"Snape!" called Sirius quickly, half-rising as the light from Snape's wand grew fainter and fainter. He could hear the sharp tapping of Snape's boots abruptly stop, and he swallowed.

"Thank you."

Snape didn't answer, and after a moment Sirius could hear him continue down the corridor. Sighing, Sirius hugged Harry tightly before pulling back and gently prying Harry off of him.

Harry's cheeks were stained with tears, but his face had regained some of its color and his eyes were no longer glittering in the semi-darkness. "Right." said Sirius softly, reaching down and brushing a few stray tears from Harry's cheek. "Are you ready to go?" Harry nodded bravely, pulling himself to his feet and wiping his eyes hurriedly with the back of his hand.

"Yeah. Let's go."

**ooooo**

The light flooding into his bedroom was a deep, rich gold, casting half of the room into dramatic shadow and the other into brilliant, gold-stained light. The light drenched his unmade bed in dusky color, playing off of silken sheets and glinting brilliantly off of the two antique silver mirrors flanking either side of the white marble fireplace.

His silver, satin pajamas dyed a deep amber in the morning light, Draco Malfoy leaned out of the window of his tower bedroom and squinted against the dazzling summer sunlight. The sky was a perfect cerulean blue, cloudless and sparkling in the rippling surface of the tiny lake below his window. Over a dozen different birds were singing, their songs raucous and horribly out of tune with each other, and as Draco watched a magnificent buck, its head reared proudly and its antlers glinting in the sun, stepped out of the shadow of the forest and turned to regard the manor warily.

His hair blowing gently in the warm morning breeze, Draco closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, a languid smile unfolding across his face as he leaned as far out of the window as he could. A butterfly drifted lazily past his head, its blue wings sparkling like sapphire as it turned towards the sun, and Draco's smile grew wider.

There was a loud thump from behind him, followed by a rustling sound. Draco's smile quickly turned into a frown, and with a soft exclamation he pulled back from the window and spun around. "It's about time you're back, Gwell. I sent you away –" His voice trailed off into stunned silence as he pushed the heavy forest green drapes aside.

There were two people standing in the center of his room. One of them – a man dressed in thin, gray robes thoroughly coated in reddish-brown dust – was holding a wand, and had raised it to point straight at Draco's head.

Draco's gray eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he asked accusingly, not sounding in the least intimidated. The man's wand arm faltered for a moment.

"Never mind that." he said hoarsely, taking a step forward and gently pushing the thin, black-haired boy behind him with his free hand. "Who are _you_?"

Draco lifted his chin in the air stubbornly. "_You're_ trespassing in _my_ house." he said definitively, crossing his arms and sliding forward so that his legs dangled over the edge of his window seat. "And if you don't tell me who you are, I'll…I'll tell my father you were here."

The man was staring at him strangely, his forehead knitted in concentration as though he was trying to remember if he'd seen Draco before. "You…you're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" he said at last.

"Yes." said Draco haughtily, trying to peer around the man to see the black-haired boy that had darted behind him. "And this is _my_ room, and you've interrupted _my_ breakfast, and so you had better tell me who you are right now or you'll regret it."

"I'm…I'm your cousin." said the man at last, letting his wand arm drop down to his side. "Sort of. And this," He stepped to the side, and gently propelled the boy forward, "Is Harry."

Draco ran his eyes appraisingly over the boy. His jet-black hair was tangled and matted, and lightly dusted with rusty brown powder – he looked like he was about Draco's age, but he was at least three inches shorter, and painfully thin. His bright, emerald green eyes were looking shyly at Draco from behind broken wire-rimmed glasses. Draco's eyes traveled slowly up his face, and rested on his forehead.

With a gasp Draco jumped to his feet, pointing a threatening finger at Sirius as he stammered disbelievingly, "You, you _kidnapped_ Harry Potter!"

The man looked stricken, and was about to open his mouth to say something when the boy said, the barest hint of pride coloring his soft voice, "He's my godfather."

Draco's eyes grew, if anything, wider. With a soft shriek he stumbled backwards, climbing back into the window seat as his hand – still pointed at the man – began to shake. "Y-you're Sirius B-Black!" he squeaked, sounding truly frightened now as he leaned as far away from them as he could without falling out of the open window. The man – Sirius – frowned.

"How'd you – no, never mind. Look, just…just get down from there before you fall out, alright? I'm putting my wand away now, look…" He put his wand back into the pocket of his robes, spreading his arms out wide, but Draco didn't move.

"You're a _murderer_," he whispered, with a horrified kind of fascination. Sirius sighed.

"No, I'm not. I'm your mum's cousin. And…and I need you to do me a favor, alright?" He bent down slightly so that he and Draco were on eye-level. "Can you let Harry stay here with you until I come back?"

"What?" yelped Harry and Draco simultaneously. They glanced at each other, Draco grinning slightly and Harry looking as though he was about to faint – breaking free of Draco's gaze, Harry turned to stare urgently at Sirius. "But, I thought I was going with you…"

"Harry, I promised I'd keep you safe." said Sirius, his voice lowered so that Draco had to lean forward to hear him. "And you'll be safe here, at least until I come back." Sirius turned his head slightly to fix Draco with a pointed stare. "He will be safe, won't he?"

Before he realized what he was doing Draco found himself nodding fervently. Sirius smiled briefly at him, then looked back down at Harry. "See? I'll be back in no time, and I'll bring…them…with me. And we'll all go to Hogwarts together. Just…just make sure nobody knows you're here, alright? Nobody but Draco. And if I don't come back –" Harry whimpered softly, but Sirius continued ruthlessly, "– if I don't come back, use this fireplace to get to Hogwarts. Draco knows how, he'll show you."

"But I want to go with you…" whispered Harry, throwing his arms around Sirius neck and hugging him tightly. Sirius smiled bitterly, pressing Harry's head against his shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"I know. But you can't, Harry. This…this is something I have to do by myself, alright?" Harry nodded silently into Sirius shoulder, and Sirius sat up, tenderly unwinding Harry's arms from around his neck. "Alright. It's time for me to go, then."

He straightened, and fixed Draco with his most threatening stare. "If anything happens to my godson," he said warningly, his hand straying to his pocket, "Then I shall hold you personally responsible. Got that?"

Draco gulped and nodded feverishly. Sirius grinned predatorily at him, then turned towards the threadbare tapestry on the far wall.

"Sirius?"

Sirius paused as his hand brushed the tapestry, about to push it aside to reveal the hidden doorway behind it. Harry was standing in the center of the circular room, staring up at Sirius through tear-bright eyes. Harry swallowed. "I…I love you." he whispered at last, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as his voice cracked. Sirius attempted to smile and failed miserably.

"I love you too, Harry." he murmured. His gaze lingered on Harry a moment more – then with a choking noise in the back of his throat he spun away, slipping behind the tapestry and disappearing from sight.

Draco, suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open, promptly shut it and turned to look at Harry.

Harry was still standing on the rug in the middle of the room, swaying slightly as he stared at the ancient, faded tapestry that Sirius had disappeared behind. As Draco watched he sank slowly to the ground, his legs curling up to his chest as he buried his head in his knees.

Draco cleared his throat loudly. "So. _You're_ Harry Potter."

Harry looked up, blinking back tears, as Draco slid off of the window seat and walked over to kneel in front of him. "Yeah." whispered Harry, smiling weakly as Draco grinned at him and stuck out his hand.

"I'm Draco Malfoy." he said proudly, shaking Harry's hand seriously before getting back to his feet. "Was _he_," Draco jerked his head towards the tapestry, "Really my cousin?" Harry shrugged, and Draco sighed self-deprecatingly.

"He was filthy." he said firmly, still glancing over his shoulder at the tapestry, "So I don't think he could've been." He turned back around to look at Harry, who was pulling himself carefully to his feet and looking around him with something bordering on awe. "You're filthy, too. The bathroom's that way." He nodded towards a dark mahogany door at the far end of the room. "And there's towels and soap and stuff already in there, and _here's_ some new clothes." He tossed Harry a pair of pressed slate-grey trousers and a white linen shirt – Harry caught them, looking stunned.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked quietly, gazing at Draco disconcertedly. Draco, pushing aside the forest green drapes covering the rest of his windows, paused.

"'Cos Mother and Father locked me in here and didn't even bother to tell me what's been going on." he said at last, turning to look at Harry. The sunlight turned his pale blonde hair a deep, burnt gold, highlighting his aristocratic cheekbones and sparkling in his clear grey eyes. "And I've asked them, you know, but they just tell me that it's none of my business and shove me off to bed." His eyes darkened for a moment, then brightened as he added, "And besides, I'm sure you've got loads of stories to tell. Like how you got in here, for starters." He grinned at Harry, and Harry, hesitantly, smiled back.

"So I'll call Gwell while you're in the bath, and she can bring breakfast up." Draco continued, glancing down at the rich forest green fabric clutched in his hand. "And then you can tell me everything." He yanked the final drape aside, and golden sunlight poured into the room. The scent of fresh flowers and grass mingled with the rich, woody smell of the forest, drifting through the open window and filling the room with an almost heady feeling of summer.

Harry padded over to the bathroom door, pausing as his hand rested on the ornate glass doorknob and glancing back. "Draco?"

Draco, halfway through unbuttoning his satin pajama top, looked up. "Yes?"

Harry smiled, pushing the door open and stepping inside. "Thank you." He closed the door behind him, and Draco could hear the lock click into place.

Draco stared at the door for a moment more, then turned to look out the open window. The magnificent buck was still standing on the edge of the forest, its head thrown proudly back – as Draco watched it gave the manor one last admonitory glance before turning and cantering back into the depths of the forest.

Draco let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and finished unbuttoning his shirt. "You're welcome." he whispered, as the sound of running water drifted through the bathroom door. Shrugging out of his pajama top, he slipped into a pale gray, silken shirt and glanced towards the door leading out to the hallway as its large, silver doorknob began to turn. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the doors of his wardrobe fully open as Gwell tottered back into his room, balancing a pitcher of lemonade, an exquisite glass goblet, and a platter of biscuits in her hands.

"Gwell, I think I might be ready for breakfast now…"

* * *

**A/N** - Okay, so Draco really didn't factor into that chapter much...but hey, he _will_ play an important role! And never fear, you will hear more of the trials and tribulations Harry, Sirius, and Snape went through...as well as more on the potion that Sirius took. That's all coming later - as you may have noticed, this story is beginning to wind down. And yes, I realize James and Remus weren't in that chapter at all. Don't worry, they're center stage in the next.

Special thanks to _girl_, _maria_, _Saphire_ _Starlet_, _naomi_, _iwishiwasarosie_, _morgan_, _Samantha_, _hml2686_, _Lisa_, _Glitch_, _P_, _tiapotter16_, and _Ace_ _Ryn_ _Knight_, my anonymous reviewers. Hugs to you all!

Replies to reviews will be coming...soon. I can't promise when, but I'll try my hardest to get them out to you all as soon as possible. Thank you so much for reviewing that last chapter, it was the best Christmas present I could have asked for and a definate pick-me-up during finals!

As always - **_please, please review!_** There is nothing I love more than hearing what you guys have to say - good, bad, I'll take it all. :)

Next update - _(at the moment untitled)_. In which Remus and James come back into the picture, much torturing takes place, and the reuniting continues. Coming soon (although I refuse to promise that it'll be up on time - sorry!)

Thank you so much everyone for your reviews - I loved every single one. Keep 'em coming, please!


	19. Friendship and Meetings

**A/N** - Ah...I can hear the cries now. An update! At long, long last! And just when you thought it was never again to be...for a full list of apologies and explanations behind the long absence (**and, perhaps more importantly, information on future updates**), see the note in the bio (which will be up by April 3rd - I'm just too tired to write it out now, sorry).

Also, on a lighter note - **the ever wonderful and amazing and altogether fantastic MissBlackPotter (who I shall love for ever) has drawn me ficart!** And incredibly adorable cartoon-ish ficart from the last chapter, at that...the link's in my bio and you absolutely must check it out, because I really cannot overemphasis the cuteness.

Okay - and now, one final note. This chapter's dedicated to the wonderful (and persistent, heh) _maria_, whose birthday is tomorrow (April 2nd) and without whose...encouragement...I'd never have been able to finish this chapter. This chapter's for you, hun! I hope you like it!

Alright...my birthday also happens to be Monday (the third), so please read, enjoy (hopefully!), and review, and it'll be the best 16th birthday present you could give me! Very much love to you all for your wonderful patience, and now without further ado I present...

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 19 – Friendship and Meetings_

_August 10, 1987_

_With slow, faltering steps James stumbled out from behind Sirius. Their hands brushed, and for the briefest of seconds James clasped Sirius' hand tightly, turning his head slightly to meet Sirius' eyes – but then he turned back, stumbling after Remus and Abaddon out of the cell. _

**ooooo**

"He's not here, darlings." said Abaddon loudly, his chestnut eyes narrowed as his gaze swept across the ruined dungeon cell. Blood spattered the floor, collecting in crimson puddles that glistened in the light shining from the end of Abaddon's wand – the bars that had once stood in the front of the cell were lying in a twisted, mangled heap in the corridor just outside, the rusted metal gouged by deep, claw-like scratches. "You lied to me, hmm? _That's_ not very nice." Shrugging out from under Remus so that the unconscious werewolf fell heavily to the floor, Abaddon wrapped long, elegant fingers around James' wrist and jerked him roughly forward.

"You see, my dear," he continued conversationally, his grip on James' wrist tightening as he strolled towards the back of the ruined cell, "I'm not _quite_ as foolish as I look. Either little Harry really is dead and you haven't any idea where he is, or he's alive and you're just refusing to tell me where the little darling's gotten to." He sighed, his gaze sweeping across the ruined dungeon. "I really would like to trust you, darling, but you're making it most terribly difficult…"

"He's _dead_." whispered James, his voice trembling and hitching as he stumbled and nearly fell over a hunk of broken stone. "I told you, he was…he…"

Abaddon's lips curled into a pout. "But he's not here!" Abaddon's voice rose plaintively, and he spun around, grabbing James' wrist with his other hand and bending James' hand back warningly. James hissed, drawing up short and standing perfectly still as Abaddon, his lower lip quivering and his chestnut eyes wide as he stared at James, bent further back on James' wrist. "My dear, you're really quite sure you're not lying, aren't you?"

James swallowed, but didn't say anything. Abaddon's eyes narrowed, and his pout slowly curled into a scowl. With a savage growl he jerked James' wrist sharply backwards – James barely had time to try and jerk away before there was a loud _crack_. James cried out, stumbling forward and sinking to the ground at Abaddon's feet as, a look of bitter, perverse pleasure on his face, Abaddon continued to bend backwards on James' hand until it was nearly touching his arm. James squeezed his eyes shut, nearly hyperventilating as his broken bones scraped against each other and broke through his skin.

"I can't tell you how very sad I am, darling." Abaddon said softly, shifting his grip on James' wrist to his left hand and squatting down to whisper in James' ear. "Now stop being silly and tell me where the little dear is."

James, his breath coming in quick, shuddering gasps and almost unable to think through a haze of pain, leaned away from Abaddon's grip on his hand and shook his head feverishly. Abaddon's eyes narrowed further, and with an exclamation of disgust he released his grip on James' hand and shoved him forcefully away from him. James fell roughly to the floor, crying out as his wrist slammed against the ground. "Do you have any idea what you've done, James!" said Abaddon loudly, his voice growing higher and shriller as he jumped to his feet and paced back toward where Remus was lying prone on the stone ground. "You've ruined _everything_! The Dark Lord will kill me, darling, he'll _kill_ me…You have to tell me where he is, my lovely, you have to…"

James cracked his eyes open, not bothering to try and push himself up to his knees as Abaddon spun around and stalked back towards him. The Death Eater's chestnut eyes were narrowed and glittering with fury – with a savage growl he reached James and kicked him as hard as he could in the chest. James gasped involuntarily, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut. "Didn't I say we were friends, James?" whispered Abaddon, his voice dropping to a trembling whisper as he dropped down to his knees and began to stroke James' sweat-matted hair distractedly. "And He'll kill me. All because of you. You can't let him, James, my lovely, you can't…you have to tell me where Harry is…"

James cracked his eye open and glared at Abaddon's parchment white, anxious face. "Go to hell." he growled hoarsely, his voice almost incoherent as he spat out a mouthful of blood. His ribs were aching with a sort of dull, burning fire – at least two were broken, maybe more – and he was beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he lay curled on the cold stone floor.

He closed his eyes, tensing as he waited for Abaddon to kick him again – but several long, tense seconds past, and still the only noise was the sound of his own harsh, ragged breathing. Finally he cracked his eyes open again.

Abaddon was lying next to James on the dungeon floor, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands tangled in his ermine cloak. His chestnut hair was draped in fine silken ribbons across his face and shoulders, and his chestnut eyes were wide open, staring at James with a look of bewildered and almost childlike hurt in his gaze. Tears were trickling slowly down the side of his face, but he didn't seem to notice them at all.

"I don't want to die, my dear." he whispered, drawing his ermine cloak – stained with dirt and blood – across his chest. "Other people die, darling, but not me. Because I _will_ go to Hell, and once you go there you can't ever break out again."

James swallowed, his throat raw and burning. "You _deserve_ to go there, you fucking bastard." he snarled at last, his eyes fevered and narrowed as he stared at Abaddon.

Abaddon nodded, his eyes never once leaving James' face. "I know. But I don't _want_ to, my dear. And He'll kill me unless I find little Harry, and so if you don't tell me where he is I'll have to make you." Abaddon sighed, pushing himself to his knees and wiping his face with the back of his hand. "I do like to think we're friends, my lovely. So I really am most terribly sorry."

James watched through eyes half-blinded with pain as Abaddon carefully selected a blunt-edged piece of rubble and hefted it in his fist. And then he closed his eyes, tensing against a sharp, heavy rush of pain and then, just as suddenly, a wonderful, enfolding emptiness.

**ooooo**

James cracked his eyes open, biting back a gasp at the painful throbbing in his head as he slowly and painfully returned to consciousness. He was sitting with his back to a rough stone wall – his arms were raised above his head and shackled together, and his broken right wrist felt like it was on fire as the broken bone that had pierced through his skin scraped against the metal shackles. Trying vainly to settle his fast, hitched breathing, James closed his eyes again and leaned his sweaty head back against the wonderfully cool stone wall.

"You're awake."  
James swallowed but didn't open his eyes. There was a moment of silence, and then –

"…James, please…"

James shuddered and, unable to hold back a harsh, dry sob, cracked his eyes open again and turned his head slightly to the left.

Remus Lupin was chained to the wall next to him, his face sheet white and his entire body covered in bloody gashes and cuts. His golden eyes were fixed feverishly on James' face, but as James turned toward him he gave a hitched sob and snapped his eyes shut.

Almost unable to think past the pain in his arm, James waited. Several long, tense seconds passed, silent except for the sound of their uneven, shallow breathing. Finally Remus opened his eyes again.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice coarse and strained as he smiled wanly. "I just…it's…"

James shook his head and carefully edged as close as he could to Remus, forcing back a cry as his wrist scraped painfully against the metal shackle. Remus hurriedly edged closer as well, until finally their shoulders were all but touching and the rusted metal chain could stretch no farther.

There was silence again, uncomfortable now as the space between them seemed to throb with unasked questions.

"I'm sorry." blurted Remus at last, twisting towards James to look him full in the face. "I never got around to telling you and then I thought it was too late because obviously, obviously you were, were _dead_…and I don't know how you came back, but that…it doesn't matter, it's just that, just that…"

Feeling slightly alarmed now, James leaned forward so that his face was inches from Remus'. Remus closed his eyes again, squeezing them tightly together. His entire body was shuddering with a mixture of fatigue and shock, but as James leaned forward he leaned forward as well. Their foreheads touched, and James released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I know," he murmured, closing his eyes and gradually stilling his racing heart. "You don't have to say anything, Moony…I know." Remus shook his head slightly, pressing his forehead against James' as though desperate for the contact, but didn't say anything. James swallowed. "Harry told me everything, everything you did for him…and, and I…I just, I don't – oh sod it, Moony. You know what I mean."

A slightly hysterical laugh was rising in Remus' throat. "You, you…" He shook his head slightly, pressing his forehead as hard as he could against James' as he continued to choke with uncontrollable laughter. James, despite the pain in his wrist, despite the enormous bruise that he could feel blossoming on his face, despite _everything_ that was happening, couldn't help but begin to smile hesitantly. "You, you're…you're such an _idiot_…You're a great, sodding, terrible, horrible, _horrible_ idiot. And I don't even care any-anymore, I just, I just _missed_ you and I keep waiting to, to wake up…"

More than anything else right now James wanted to wrap his arms around Remus' shoulders and stop him from shuddering, and stop the tears that were now mingling with hiccupping laughter and above all reassure him that this wasn't a dream, that it was real, and that somehow they were going to find a way out of this.

But he couldn't, because his arms were still shackled behind him, and it was painful even to lean forward enough to press his forehead against Remus', and even if this wasn't a dream they were still imprisoned by a Death Eater who, any moment now, was going to return.

"Moony," he whispered, opening his eyes again and staring with a desperate sort of intensity at Remus' face, "Remus, it's…it's not a dream. No, shut up, don't say anything yet – I just, I just have to say something. I – I just want to say that, everything that's happened, or is going to happen, it's all…oh, damn it, Moony, you _know_ I'm bad at this…It's just that I didn't think I'd ever see you again, and I never had a chance to, to tell you how much you, you and Sirius and, and everyone…well. You know."

"You're not making any sense…" whispered Remus hoarsely, shaking his head very slightly but still keeping his eyes tightly closed.

"I – I'm _sorry_. About everything. About, about thinking you were the spy, and about dying, and about…everything. 'Cos you, you and Sirius are my best mates, and…well. I just – you need to know that."

Remus opened his eyes. Although his cheeks were glistening with a mixture of sweat, blood and tears, he was no longer shaking. "I know," he whispered, smiling slightly. He looked remarkably composed – his eyes, though still bright, were steady as he gazed understandingly at James. "You don't have to – I know. But there's, there's something…Harry…I, I can't remember –"

"He's alive." said James instantly. Remus closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly, and James hurried to add, "He's safe – he's with Sirius."

Remus' eyes flew open. "WHAT! _Sirius?_ No, you…please tell me you're joking, or this is a nightmare, or, or –"

"What are you on about?" hissed James, as Remus – a suddenly panicked look on his face – pulled sharply away from him and began to struggle madly against the chains binding him to the wall. "I told you, he's –"

"Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you are comfortable enough, given the circumstances."

James stiffened, but didn't turn around – he could hear Remus' sharp intake of breath beside him, and his eyes darted quickly to Remus' face. Remus was staring stoically straight ahead, his face closed and purposefully impassive. "Lucius." he said coolly, his voice controlled and full of carefully managed anger. Lucius Malfoy nodded condescendingly, glancing about him with a look of excessive boredom and disgust on his face.

"I'd forgotten how dreadful this place is. The Dark Lord and certain…associates…of mine will be along shortly. Strangely enough, we seem to have misplaced Black and the younger Potter." He smiled amusedly, picking his way across the floor and towards James and Remus. "Strange, isn't it?"

"Quite." bit out Remus, closing his eyes as Lucius stepped into view.

"Mm. Quite." agreed Lucius, drawing his wand and waving it at his side. An elegant red velvet chair popped up beside him, and with a small sigh of satisfaction he sat down, reclining comfortably and smiling with a look of supreme satisfaction on his face. "Ah. Now. I hope I haven't interrupted anything?"

"Oh, shut up." snapped James, still gazing worriedly at Remus' closed face. Lucius smiled indulgently, but didn't say anything. James turned his full intention back to Remus – the werewolf was breathing carefully and evenly, but his entire body was tensed and his hands were clenched tightly into fists. James had known Remus since they were both eleven years old, and right now Remus – calm, composed, always vaguely amused and passive Remus – looked as though he was ready to murder Lucius Malfoy.

"Let us go." demanded James coolly, still gazing at Remus even as he addressed Lucius. "Get these things off of us _now_."

"Lucius will do no such thing." James' head whipped around, just as Lucius rose smoothly to his feet and bowed.  
"My lord."

Voldemort, his red, cat-like eyes narrowed and his thin, lipless mouth set in his skull-like face, stepped out of the shadows of the doorway and into the torchlight. Behind him James could see Severus Snape, his face unusually white as he leaned back against the doorframe and surveyed the scene with unreadable black eyes. Abaddon Jugson was also behind Voldemort, his entire body trembling as he gazed at Voldemort with the look of a lost and wounded puppy.

"Get up, Lucius." said Voldemort silkily, twirling his wand idly and advancing slowly into the room. "I am afraid, James, that when left to your own devices you and Mr. Lupin tend to become most…unpredictable."

"You won't find them," said James, his voice growing higher and wilder as Voldemort stopped in front of them. "They're gone. They've left, they're at Hogwarts now, and there's nothing you can do…"

As James glared triumphantly at Voldemort, he could see Snape, still leaning against the doorframe, make a sudden, violent movement.

"You have something to add, Severus?" asked Voldemort coldly, turning slightly to regard Snape. Snape, somehow still remarkably collected, stepped away from the wall and inclined his head towards Voldemort.

"Only, my lord, that Potter must be mistaken. There is no possible way that Black and Potter – the younger Potter – could have escaped. All possible exits from the manor have been blocked." He turned his impenetrable gaze on James. "All exits Black _would know of_, at any rate."

James realized, vaguely, that he had stopped breathing. "They're gone…" he repeated softly, shaking his head, refusing what Snape was saying to be true. "They're gone…"

"Rest assured, James, they will be found." said Voldemort quietly. "They will be found before the day is out, and before tomorrow you will all be dead. Am I correct, Wormtail?"

James' head turned so fast his neck cricked. Standing in the darkness of the doorway was a short, rather pudgy man, his straw-colored hair matted with sweat and his pale blue eyes watering. Peter Pettigrew, trembling madly and looking as though he was ready to faint, took another faltering step into the room, swallowed, and nodded. "Yes," he whispered, his eyes focused on the floor and his hands clasping and unclasping in front of him. "Of course, master."

James felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. Unable to believe his eyes, he just stared as Peter took another step into the room. "Peter…?" he whispered incredulously, ignoring Remus' gasp as he swallowed and tried to meet Peter's eyes. "What…what are you…"

Peter, still refusing to look at either James or Remus, shuffled forward until he was standing next to Abaddon. Voldemort smiled cruelly at the look of disbelief and fast-growing hurt on James' face.

"Wormtail has been a most instrumental and devoted follower of mine." he said softly. "For some seven years, in fact. I'd leave you three here to catch up, but I'm afraid that we simply haven't the time. Perhaps later." He gave a short, humorless laugh, and with a final imperious beckon towards Lucius Malfoy, he spun around and strode back towards the door. Lucius got to his feet reluctantly, banishing the chair with a wave of his hand and following after Voldemort. Snape had already slipped back into passageway, and Abaddon made to follow him when Voldemort grabbed his arm. "You will stay here," he hissed, tightening his grip on Abaddon's arm while Abaddon, his face stark white, gaped senselessly at him. "You will ensure that our guests are incapable of any more…unexpected surprises. Is that clear?" Abaddon nodded wordlessly, and Voldemort smiled thinly. "Very good. Come along, Wormtail, we have other guests to see to." Without another word Voldemort swept from the dungeon – Wormtail hurried out after him, his head bowed and his entire body still trembling violently, and the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them.

Abaddon turned to look at James and Remus, his chestnut eyes wide as he absently rubbed his arm. "My darlings," he whispered, his voice echoing in the stone room, "I'm going to kill you. I just…I thought you might like to know." He swallowed, brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and slipped off his ermine fur cloak. "Well. Shall we begin, do you think?"

**ooooo**

James closed his eyes, choking back a gasp as he pressed himself against the cold stone wall and tried to escape the burning, maddening pain in his side. He could hear Remus screaming, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and turned his head to the wall, pressing his cheek against the cool stone. He remembered, vaguely, asking – _begging_ – Abaddon to stop torturing him, to just kill him and get it done with… But now Abaddon had turned his attention to Remus, and now it was Remus that was begging and screaming. Some distant part of him wanted to help Remus, to find some way to get Abaddon away from him, but more than anything else James just wanted the pain to _go away_.

He sobbed, his throat dry and aching, and staggered away from the wall. Every part of him was on fire now, and he could barely move through the pain, but somehow he managed to stumble to Remus' side and collapse next to him.

Remus stank of blood and sweat, and as James found and clasped his hand weakly he could feel that Remus was shaking violently.

"Get away from him, James." snapped Abaddon sharply, his voice colder and sharper than James ever remembered it being. "You might remember, my dear, that he didn't help you when it was your turn, and I'm terribly afraid you're not allowed to help him now."

James ignored him, clasping Remus' hand tighter and burying his head in the crook between Remus' neck and shoulder. He could feel Remus' shuddering as if it was his own, and he could hear Abaddon hiss angrily, but he no longer cared. He no longer had any room in his head for anything but the pain that was coursing through his body, but that didn't matter because there was nothing to do anyway, nothing to do but hold on to Remus and wait for Abaddon to grow weary of toying with them.

"I _said_, get away from him!" snarled Abaddon, pointing his wand at James now with a furious, maddened look in his eyes. "Divello!"

James was ripped away from Remus and thrown across the room as though by a giant, invisible hand – he slammed into the far wall, his head bashing against the stone, and slid into a small, stunned heap in the corner.

Unable to move, James just watched through pain-dulled and uncomprehending eyes as Abaddon approached Remus and knelt down beside him. Remus had stopped screaming now, and the room was silent except for the sound of Abaddon's boot heels on the stone and James' own heartbeat.

"Will you cry for me, my dear?" asked Abaddon at last, his voice directed at Remus but carrying across the dungeon to James. "You cried last time we met, eight years ago…though I wasn't so nice last time, hmm. I meant to kill you then, but you had your little friends around and they saved you, didn't they. But that doesn't matter now, because He will kill Sirius, and James is almost dead, and so you're all by yourself. And Remus Lupin cannot last very long without his friends…"

Remus' voice was heavy, scratchy and laced with pain. "You don't know…what the _hell_…you're talking about…" he said hoarsely – James could see him reach up with trembling hands and push Abaddon's hand away from his face. "You have…no idea…"

Abaddon gave a short, hysterical bark of laughter. "I hate 'friends', darling. They, they always hate me. And they're so much trouble, aren't they, lovely? But that doesn't matter, because you won't need friends anymore. Remember our spell, Remus? Remember it? I made it up, you know, darling, and I'm going to use it on you now. Just to…just to finish it." He drew in a deep breath and pointed his wand at Remus' heart. James noticed, dully, that his hand was shaking. "It needs to be finished, my dear. And isn't it wonderfully fitting that I finish it for you? It's, it's almost like irony, isn't it…"

"If you're going to kill me…then kill me." interrupted Remus, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow louder than Abaddon's in the deathly silent dungeon. James could see Abaddon's mouth snap shut as the Death Eater straightened – his mouth was set in a thin, hard line, but his hand was still shaking violently.

"Furor fio verus." he whispered, and closed his eyes.

"I hope I haven't missed anything."

Abaddon's eyes flew open again, and as one James and Abaddon turned toward the door. Sirius Black, his wand out and pointed straight at Abaddon, was standing in the center of the doorway. "I know you weren't expecting me," he continued, strolling into the room and regarding Abaddon with a fierce, furious glare that belied his glib tone, "But I really couldn't help dropping by."

Abaddon licked his lips, raising his wand to point at Sirius as the beginnings of a maniac smile danced across his face. "You're too late!" he hissed gleefully. "It's done, your friend, your lovely little werewolf, any moment now he'll –"

"Stupefy." said Sirius coldly. Abaddon, his mouth still twisted in an insane smile and his chestnut eyes glinting with madness, stood for a moment longer – and then slowly, gracefully, he crumpled to the floor and lay motionless, spread-eagled on the ground.

Sirius exhaled, blinked, and then snarled – he took two steps forward, then fell to his knees, grabbed Abaddon's neck, and slammed his head against the floor.

"Fucking _bastard_. You sodding, bleeding, fucking _fucking_ –"

"Sirius!"

"If you've done anything to Remus I'll _kill_ you, I'll wring your filthy neck and you'll _beg_ for mercy you filthy fucking piece of –"

"SIRIUS!"

"Piece of…piece of…" Sirius trailed off, his breath still coming in furious gasps even as his hands, still gripping Abaddon by the neck, stilled. James could see his back stiffen and tense, but for several long, painful moments neither of them moved.

Then, finally, Sirius turned around.

For the second time that night James felt as though he'd been punched in the chest – managing a small, weak smile, he pushed himself to his knees and leaned against the wall for support, still unable to pull his eyes away from Sirius. "I…I didn't think I'd see you again." he whispered – somewhat stupidly, he realized belatedly. Sirius just shook his head slowly, still staring at James as though they were the last two people on the earth. "Your, your timing is impeccable, by the way, even though Remus, I don't, d-don't know what's the matter but, but he'll be _fine_ now, right, we'll all be f-fine 'cos you, 'cos of your impeccable timing, like I said, only he's not moving and Sirius I – Sirius? _SIRI–_"

He didn't realize that he'd been babbling until with a _thump_ and quite a lot of pain a tangle of legs and arms and terribly baggy clothing crashed into him and knocked him back to the floor. His face was buried in a matted mess of tangled black hair and a pair of thin and bony but very familiar hands were holding onto him so tightly he could barely breathe. He also didn't realize that he was crying until Sirius, his face streaked with tears but an enormous grin stretched across his face, raised his head and gently knocked his forehead against James'.

"You – are – such – an – idiot." he said, accompanying each word with a gentle head butt. "And don't you dare say anything because you'll just start babbling again and I can't _stand_ it when you do that."

James wrinkled his nose. He could feel laughter of pure relief and happiness rising in his throat, threatening to bubble over as Sirius grinned and nuzzled into the hollow between his neck and his shoulder. "Your breath smells." he said breathlessly, stroking Sirius' back absently with his good hand as Sirius shook with laughter or tears or overwhelming happiness or some combination of all three. Sirius sniffed loudly, raised his head again, and grabbed either side of James' head in his hands.

"So does yours." he informed him, his face so close to James' now that their noses were brushing. "And I'd kiss you now, but that wouldn't be very manly, would it."

"Not in the least." replied James, grabbing Sirius' hand and bringing it to his mouth in a very sloppy kiss anyway. "But d'you think that…maybe…we could save the rest of the reunion for later?"

Sirius' smile faded a little bit, and he very tenderly knocked his forehead against James' one more time before pulling away and getting to his feet. "Alright. And Prongs, I – I just –"

James smiled, grabbing Sirius' offered hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Slinging one arm over Sirius' shoulders, he ignored the lingering, dulling pain that was slowly receding back into his side and rested his head on Sirius' shoulder. "You're my best mate too, Sirius."

Sirius' smile broadened again, relief and happiness almost making his voice break as he whispered, "Right. And, and you know…same here. I mean, just so long as one of us says it, right? And…let's just, let's just go, alright?" Sirius hesitated a moment longer, and then leaned over and planted a very sloppy, very "doggy" kiss on the top of James' head.

"Alright then. Now let's get the hell out of here, shall we?"

* * *

**A/N** - And NO, because I know some of you are going to ask...they are NOT gay! This is not slash. They are glad to see each other is all. Alright? Alright. 

And now many special thanks to _A James Potter Fan_, _Blue Lycan_, _P_ (x2), _Clementine Black_, _godisawsome_, _maria_ (x5, and happy brithday! I hope you like your present!), _anonymous_, and _kyla_, the ever-wonderful anonymous reviewers. I love you all!

Next update - (_at the moment untitled_). In which more reunions take place, Draco reenters the picture (with young Mr. Potter in tow), and bad things continue to happen to Remus. Coming some time in May (again, see the bio note).

And please, the best birthday present you could give me is a review! Because I love them ever-so-much, as you probably know by now, and there is honestly nothing that would make me happier.

So, with much love and gratitude/thankfulness to you all - ciao. (and remember - **_PLEASE REVIEW!_**)


	20. Escape, pt I

**A/N - **Well, that was another fun three month wait, wasn't it? Sheesh. I'm pathetic. Well, here it is at long last, chapter 20 - I sincerely hope it was worth the wait. And a very, _very_ belated Happy Birthday to Pain Revisited...sorry this took so long getting to you!

So, hope everyone's had a lovely summer so far, hope the wait wasn't too excrutiating...and here it is, chapter 20. (Hopefully!) happy reading!

* * *

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 20 – Escape, pt. I_

_August 10, 1987_

It was an elegant room, even to the most discerning of eyes – enormous gilt paintings half-concealed beneath Moroccan tapestries and engraved silver mirrors adorned the malachite green walls, while a chequered white and black marble floor gleamed like water in the smoky half-light that seeped through the gray-tinted windows. Persian rugs, English tapestries, a magnificent fawn-colored chaise lounge salvaged from revolutionary France and a fireplace façade fashioned from imported Italian marble all blended together into one magnificent portrait of opulence and wealth – the Malfoy family drawing room, only used on those occasions when obsequiousness was a necessity and in the meantime kept as clean as elfish magic could manage.

All of the doors leading into the room were locked fast, the fireplace had been covered by an elegant wrought-iron grate for ten years now and the windows were barred inside and out. There were only two keys into the room – one was an enormous gold and emerald velvet affair, locked as a matter of course in the upper left hand drawer of the desk in the master study – the other had been secretly crafted some seventy five years ago, and as the Malfoys were generally great lovers of both symbolism and irony it had remained hidden for nearly all of that time.

Its existence had remained hidden, in fact, until a quarter past ten Monday morning, the third week of August 1987.

The handsome mother of pearl clock on the mantelpiece now read ten thirty, and Sirius Black had been digging frantically through a mass of old parchment letters, journals, and maps for the past fifteen minutes.

"Great…bleeding…sodding…piece of – I _know_ I've seen it here, I swear it was here thirteen years ago…"

"Sirius –"

"_Shut up!_" snapped Sirius, his hands rifling feverishly through the massive stack of yellowing parchment that had lain hidden in an armoire for at least ten years. A second later a pained look crossed his face, and he hurried to add, "No, I mean, I'm sorry…you don't have to shut up, right, just try not to say anything, please…"

James, sprawled out on the chaise lounge and gently gripping Remus' wrist with his uninjured hand, licked his lips, swallowed, and gingerly pulled himself to his feet. "Sirius." he repeated, gripping on to the side of a throne-like armchair and taking a few hobbling steps forward. Sirius' face hardened, softened, and then hardened again.

"I _know_ there's a map here that shows all the passages out, I know I saw it when I was here for Narcissa's wedding, and I need to find it so please, _please_ just be quiet and let me –"

"Sirius, the last time you were here you were _fifteen_."

"Fourteen."

"Right. So just…so just relax and _think_, alright?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but then James' long fingers tangled with his. He hesitated, then shut his mouth, closed his eyes, swallowed, and nodded mutely.

James' hand was trembling and still bleeding because neither of them could remember any decent healing spells, and when he spoke his voice shook with a mixture of fatigue, over three months of pent-up emotion, and pain.

But it was still James' voice, and since he was eleven years old that had been more comforting to Sirius than anything else in the world.

"Okay." James carefully disentangled his fingers from Sirius' and sank into one of the many surprisingly comfortable armchairs littering the room. He closed his eyes again, pulling his knees up to his chest and cradling his broken wrist against his stomach. "First off we need to find Harry."

Sirius nodded, sinking to the ground and edging forward to rest his chin on the arm of the chair. James cracked an eye open, a hint of a tired smile dancing across his face. "You haven't lost him, have you?"

His voice was teasing, but Sirius, looking slightly guilty, hesitated a moment before answering, "…No. Course not. But…but forget about Harry for now, alright? No, don't say anything – we have to find a way out of here first, and Voldemort and Abaddon and Lucius Malfoy and everyone are still running around and they'll find us eventually. And Remus is getting worse and worse, and whatever it was that Abaddon did to him is slowly killing him and we still have to get Harry again and somehow get all of us out of here and to Hogwarts and you're all but dead and we still don't have any idea how to get out of here and, and…" Sirius broke off, his voice rising with panicky laughter as he buried his face in the arm of the chair. "And now can you see why I'm a little bit edgy?"

James didn't say anything, just stared at Sirius and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. "I am not all but dead." he said finally, his voice completely serious now as he leaned forward slightly and gently poked Sirius in the temple. Sirius glanced up, his eyes suspiciously bright but his mouth set in a familiar, hard line.

"Yes, you are. Don't even –"

"_Sirius_. Listen. Calm down, alright, and _listen_ to me." James paused a moment, then smiled briefly and caught Sirius' hand in his own. "Okay. Now listen to me, Sirius – we didn't get this far only to get caught now, alright? We're going to get out of here, all four of us, and we're going to go to Hogwarts and everything will turn out alright, just wait and see. We just need to calm down and trust each other, alright?"

Sirius nodded, gripping James' hand tightly for a moment before letting it go and rising stiffly to his feet. "Alright." he said hoarsely. "I trust you. Now…now we really need to find that map…"

James shook his head, exhaling slowly and slumping back in the chair as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. "No…not, not yet. We'll need to find it eventually, yeah, 'cos we'll need to find some way out of here but there's something else…The door into this, into this room was locked when I first got here, Sirius. _Locked_. And then a few seconds later you caught up and it opened up, just like that. It's just…it's just weird, isn't it? I mean – _why_?"

Sirius shrugged impatiently. "I dunno, but it doesn't mat–"

James' cut him off with an agitated wave of his hand. "Maybe it doesn't, but what if it _does_? The door practically flew open when you touched the handle – what if that works for other doors, other rooms? What if, what if it somehow knows that you and Narcissa are related, and it recognizes you because of that and –"

Sirius was pacing now, his hands twitching restlessly at his sides as he strode back and forth in front of James. "That's stupid." he cut in sharply, his voice clearer and his eyes sharper than they had been a minute ago as he began to rub his forearms agitatedly. "That's really, really stupid. I mean, for all we know it could've been Remus the door opened for, I was carrying him when I tried to open it…and this whole thing is bollocks, James. _It – doesn't – matter_. Just…just be happy it opened, okay? Just be happy and forget about it, and let's find that damn map because I _know_ it shows every passageway out of here and if we find it we can finally get out of this hellhole. That sounds like a better plan, yeah?"

"You're panicking again, Sirius."

"It's well-placed anxiety, you prat. Now are you going to get up off your lazy arse and help me look or are you going to start going off on tangents again?"

"Mmm. Git." He could sense rather than see Sirius' grin, and with a small smile of his own James settled further back in the chair and turned his head into the time-worn velvet of the chair back.

Everything felt like one giant, wonderful dream; the vague smell of incense and age, the sound of Sirius carelessly and desperately digging through mountains of paper, the quiet, steady beat of his heart against his hand.

It was as though he was at the center of the world, everything at once sharp and dull as his breathing became slower, deeper. Sirius' steady, quiet string of profanity, the half-imagined sound of Remus' heavy, restless breathing, desk drawers overturned, books and papers thrown to the floor…

He fell asleep slowly, gracefully, vague doubt still lingering in his mind and Sirius' voice still echoing in his head.

"_I mean, for all we know it could've been Remus the door opened for…"_

**ooooo**

The last of the biscuits, the bacon, the eggs, the toast, the lemonade, and the chocolate milk had long since disappeared. The Sun had almost fully risen in the sky by now, golden, late-summer sunlight flooding into the room through windows thrown wide-open. The sunlight fell across the room's elegant marble fireplace, across the Oriental rugs littering the wooden floor, across the still unmade bed standing in the middle of the room and across the two boys who were the room's sole occupants.

Draco, still feeling slightly stunned, stared unseeingly out the open window and out across the pristine grounds. "So…so he's alive? But didn't he –"

"I don't know." interrupted Harry, his voice quiet but shaking with a mixture of tiredness and emotion. "But I _saw_ him. And Sirius says he's my dad, so he _must_ be."

"Yeah, but…still." Draco shifted, turning around so that his back was to the window and he was facing Harry. "People _can't_ just come back to life, just like that. It's _impossible_."

Harry, his bare feet dangling over the edge of Draco's oversized bed and his eyes glued to the floor, nodded and bit his lower lip. "I know. That's what Remus said. But, but what if…I mean, it can't be impossible, because I saw him and he was just like I knew he would be, he was tall and brave and I think he even liked me a lot, and, and he even knew who I was, and everything…"

"Everyone knows who you are." said Draco firmly, sliding out of the window seat and padding over to vault on top of the bed next to Harry. "_Everyone_. Even Gwell, I bet. So that doesn't mean anything, and he might've just been faking the rest…"

"Sirius says he's my dad." insisted Harry, his tone soft but his eyes obstinate as he glanced up at Draco. "So he must be."

Draco snorted, but didn't say anything. "Fine." he said after a moment, locking his fingers together and staring at Harry through narrowed eyes. "Fine. Maybe he is your dad. But why's he _here_, then?"

Harry shrugged, returning Draco's stare with a gaze just as stubborn. "I don't know. But he is, and he and Remus and Sirius are going to get me out of here and, and…and everything will be perfect again. Just wait and see."

They continued to stare unblinkingly at each other for a few moments – and then Draco, flushing slightly, dropped his gaze.

"Well…well fine, then. But, but it all seems a bit _shady_, if you ask me." mumbled Draco, crossing his arms and lifting his gaze to stare out the open window. "And…and where _is_ Black, anyway? It's been _ages_ since he left; he said he'd be back in 'no time' and it's been _ages_."

Harry bit his lower lip, slipping off of the bed and padding over to the worn tapestry on the far wall. "I don't know. D'you think…do you think maybe something's happened to him?"

Draco shook his head, sliding to the floor and eyeing Harry contemplatively. "Maybe. Probably. He's been gone _forever_."

Harry stroked the tapestry gently, struggling valiantly to blink back a haze of tears. "If they hurt him it'll be my fault." he whispered, drawing his hand back as his fingers snagged on the tapestry.

Draco stared at him confusedly. "But he went to rescue your father, didn't he? So it'd be entirely _his_ fault, really."

Harry shook his head, turning to face Draco as he wiped his eyes furtively. "No! It'd be all _my_ fault, because it was 'cos of me that he had to leave my dad and Remus in the first place and if it weren't for me they would all have escaped by now, and, and…and that's why it's all of it, everything, _everything's_ my fault."

Draco let out a snort of laughter. "That's the stupidest thing you've said all morning." he said decidedly, grinning wickedly as Harry began to smile tremulously. "You know, except for that ugly scar on your head nobody would think you're _The_ Harry Potter. You're not half as brave as I thought you'd be, for starters."

Harry's smile vanished just as suddenly as it had come – within moments it was replaced by a look of almost painful uncertainty, and then one of unyielding resolution. "I know I'm not." he whispered, his voice soft but determined. "I can be, though."

The look of almost cruel amusement faded off of Draco's face. "What?"

Harry, his face set in determination, strode towards the large mahogany wardrobe set on the other side of the fireplace. "I'm going to go find them." he announced, his voice decided as he threw open the wardrobe doors. Draco choked.

"That's…that's even worse than what you said earlier. That's not brave, that's _stupid_."

"Don't you get it?" said Harry heatedly, digging furiously through a pile of discarded cloaks. "It's my fault that all of this happened anyway, and…and Sirius and Remus and my dad would've done the same thing for me."

"Well, I _told_ you they were idiots, didn't I? Stop destroying my stuff, would you, and _think_ for a second." snapped Draco angrily, getting to his feet and stalking over to slam the wardrobe doors shut. "Right. Now. Black said that if he didn't show up I should send you to Hogwarts, and he hasn't showed up and so that's what I'm going to do, whether you like it or not."

Harry took a step back, his eyes bright and his face decided. "No. I'm not going. I'm tired of everyone getting hurt because of me all the time. And even if this isn't a brave thing to do, it's what I _have_ to do. I mean, you'd have done the same thing for your dad, wouldn't you?"

"My father wouldn't get into this problem in the first place." muttered Draco under his breath, glaring at Harry through narrowed gray eyes as he shifted to stand directly in front of the wardrobe.

Harry swallowed, his emerald green eyes glinting with a mixture of anger and tears as he bent down and quickly snatched up an enormous black cloak lying discarded on the floor. "I'm going by myself, then, so you won't have to bother about me at all. You can just…just forget about everything, then. And don't try and stop me, because…just don't, alright? And, and thanks for everything, but…but I have, I have to go…"

Harry swiveled around, throwing the cloak on hurriedly and striding towards the large mahogany door leading out into the hallway. He threw the door open, blinking furiously as he drew the soft velvet of the cloak around himself and pulled the hood down to cover his face.

"Potter."

Harry, already halfway through the door, hesitated and, after a heavy pause, turned around slowly.

Draco was standing in front of the now-open wardrobe, a beautiful cut velvet, midnight blue cloak draped over his shoulders and his arms crossed in front of him.

"Do you have any idea how we're going to find them?" Draco asked frostily, uncrossing his arms and drawing the fur-lined cloak closer around himself. Harry frowned.

"What d'you mean? You're not –"

"I promised Black I'd make sure you stay safe, and if you wander around the Manor on your own you'll probably break all sorts of expensive things and there's no telling what'll happen to you then." said Draco crossly, adjusting the elaborate sapphire and gold clasp that fastened his cloak together. "And if you were locked in a dungeon with a _werewolf_," Draco spat out the word distastefully, "Then they _obviously_ want you dead. You need me. I'm an _indispensable_ part of this stupid scheme of yours."

Harry, drawn aback by the mixture of animosity and pride in Draco's tone, took an involuntary step backwards. "I _don't_ need your help," he said after a moment, his face beginning to harden again as Draco's mouth curled in an elegant sneer. "You've already helped me enough."

There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in Harry's voice, but Draco bristled nonetheless. "You're being an idiot again." he snapped, slamming the wardrobe shut and stalking over to shove Harry out of the doorway and into the hall. "I'm going to take you to my father's study, and then to the drawing room. There's a map in there that shows all the passages out of the Manor. I'll take you to the drawing room and that's it, you'll have to find them on your own. The map will help you escape once you do." Draco pulled the door shut and pulled the midnight blue hood up to cover his silvery-blonde hair and throw his face into shadow. "Oh, and if anyone asks – your name is Nott. Theodore Nott. But try not to say too much because Theodore's a lot smarter than you; it'll be a dead giveaway."

Draco began to stride off down the hallway, his cloak rustling slightly as it brushed along the polished wooden floor. Harry hurried after him, squinting against the murky half-light filtering through the stained glass windows that proceeded in a stately march down the corridor. "Why are you doing this?" asked Harry at last, his voice low but still echoing slightly in the vaulted stone ceiling.

For several long moments Draco didn't say anything – and then at last he tilted his head slightly to the side, raising his voice to carry back to Harry as he whispered, "Because I promised I would. And Malfoys keep their promises." With a regal flare of his cloak he turned back and continued to stride down the hall – Harry, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face, hurried after him, and within moments they were both swallowed in the murky darkness.

**ooooo**

_It was a very strange feeling, almost but not quite like floating – Remus could feel himself on the edge of consciousness, but it was as though he was watching himself through someone else's eyes. He could feel his harsh, ragged breathing, and at the same time he was also watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It was very strange, oddly peaceful, and horribly familiar. _

_He closed his eyes, certain of what was coming next._

_And all at once his world exploded._

**ooooo**

"James."

No reply. And again, more insistently this time – "_James!_"

James woke with a start. "Wha– ahhhh…"

Ignoring Sirius' anxious, gray-tinged face, James, suddenly very much awake, clutched his broken wrist to his chest and bit down on his lower lip to suppress another cry of pain. "What – d'you – want?" he hissed, struggling to control his breathing as Sirius, looking stricken, patted James' shoulder awkwardly.

"What? Oh, right…I just thought you'd want to know – I haven't found the map yet. And it's been at least forty-five minutes since I started looking."

"Lovely." growled James.

Sirius, tactfully, ignored him. "So I was thinking – I'm going to go find Harry. And I tried to use the floo network five minutes ago and it's been taken down, so I'll just bring him back here and we'll figure it out from there. Okay?"

Vaguely aware of the note of tiredness in Sirius' voice, James struggled to force a hint of a smile onto his face. "Alright. Great. That's really, really great, Sirius…"

Sirius' eyes narrowed slightly, and he punched James' shoulder gently. "You weren't listening to me, were you?" he accused, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"I was! Mostly. Something about Harry and floo."

Sirius sighed with the air of the long-suffering, reached up to tousle James' hair, and said, "The floo network's down. I'm going to go get Harry and bring him back here, so until I get back you'll have to…I dunno, just lay low, alright? Make sure Moony stays out of trouble. Try not to let everything fall apart without me."

"Mm. Right." muttered James, smiling slightly as he batted Sirius away. "Where's Harry?"

"Safe." replied Sirius, after a slight pause. "Really. So your only job while I'm gone is to make sure Remus stays in order, and by this I mean that if he wakes up you are instantly to knock him out again with this book. I think it's a simple enough task for you to handle."

"Git. If you let anything happen to Harry…" James trailed off menacingly.

Sirius raised his hands innocently. "I'm the only sane one left here, you know. I'm very dependable and trustworthy."

James snorted. Sirius ignored him.

"…And so you have one, _one_ job to do," continued Sirius, waggling one finger in front of James' face, "And that's to keep Remus out of trouble. And I'll be back in no time, and then we're all of us going home. Sound good?"

James nodded, a smile unfolding across his face as Sirius clapped him on the shoulder and, with a rather exaggerated groan, pushed himself to his feet. "Right then. The plan stands. You have a heavy book and a comfy chair, Remus has a comfy chaise, I have a vague notion of where I'm supposed to be going and –"

Suddenly Sirius broke off. There was a low, creaking noise coming from the front of the room; the sound of a lock turning in a key.

Instantly Sirius dropped to the ground, yanking James' chair around so that the back of the chair faced the door. "Shit," whispered Sirius, leaning over to peer around James' chair and reaching up to grasp James' hand so tightly James felt as though his bones would break. "_Shit_. Remus…" Sirius glanced helplessly between James, Remus, and the door which even now was slowly being pushed open. James opened his mouth to say something, but already Sirius' face had hardened into a look of resolve. With a savage growl he wrenched his wand out of his pocket and leapt out from behind the chair, falling instinctively into a fighting stance with his wand pointed at the door and his body directly in front of Remus. Slowly, the door opened.

"I _told_ you I'd– oh. It's the murderer again. Hello."

Sirius stared in complete shock at the two small cloaked forms standing in the doorway. The one in front was the one who had spoken – he was draped in a midnight blue cloak and was holding an enormous gilt key loosely in his hand. There was another, smaller figure behind him, completely swaddled in a gigantic black cloak. Before Sirius even had time to think the smaller figure let out a soft cry of mingled surprise and joy, threw off the cloak, and hurtled straight at Sirius.

Sirius fell to his knees as Harry, his entire face lit up in an enormous smile and his eyes squeezed shut as tears of happiness and utter relief slipped down his cheeks, barreled into him and threw his arms around Sirius' neck.

"_Harry?_" he whispered incredulously, wrapping his arms around Harry and rubbing his back absently as Harry began to sob. "Harry, what're you –"

"I thought you were dead!" sobbed Harry, clutching Sirius' back convulsively. "You were gone forever and I thought, we thought, that you'd been captured again and that would have been horrible, _horrible_ and it would all have been my fault, and I had to go looking for you, I had to, _I had to_…I was trying to be brave, Sirius, I was trying to be brave like you're brave and my dad's brave and Remus is brave, and Draco was a lot braver than me really but it doesn't matter because I had to make sure they hadn't taken you away again…"

"Shh…shh, Harry. I'm fine. We're all fine." murmured Sirius soothingly, tilting his head slightly to glance at James. James was frozen, his eyes fixated on Harry and an almost hungry look on his face. "We're _all_ fine." repeated Sirius significantly. Harry sniffed loudly and drew back, and then froze as he caught sight of James.

There was a very heavy pause, the tension in the air palpable as Harry and James just stared at each other.

The silence was broken by Draco, who said loudly, "Well, are you going to introduce me or not?"

Harry, his eyes never once breaking from James' face, began to smile tremulously. "He's my dad."

**ooooo**

It was nearly eleven fifteen in the morning, and Albus Dumbledore – leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and generally acknowledged champion of the wizarding world at large – was feeling inordinately tired.

He'd been awake since one o'clock the morning before, had eaten barely two full meals in the meantime, and since he'd started looking he'd thoroughly pored over at least fifty massive, dusty, and mind-bogglingly boring books.

Carefully sliding number fifty-three _(A Supreme, Thorough, and Altogether Most Conclusive Folio of Flora)_ to the side, Dumbledore sighed and flicked idly at a crumpled up wad of parchment before reaching for number fifty-four with an expertly stifled groan.

Severus Snape hadn't so much as contacted him for almost four days now – he might have dismissed it as a an unfortunate coincidence, except that last night had been the full moon.

And unless Voldemort's plans had changed dramatically since Severus had last reported to him, Remus would have killed Harry Potter by now.

Dumbledore's hand, in the action of pulling the ancient, molding book towards him, stilled. There was, of course, no way of knowing whether Harry was still alive or not…but even against all reason he was sure that he would have _known_ if Harry had died. His instinct told him that Harry was still alive – he knew it was an almost certain fact that Harry had been dead for nearly six hours now.

But of course thinking of that wouldn't change anything at all, and with a monumental effort of will he turned his mind back to the book in front of him.

Making a face as he took a sip of his now lukewarm tea, Dumbledore sighed, flipped the book open to page one, and began to read.

**ooooo**

"…And here it is."

Sirius whistled appreciatively as Draco stood up, smiling smugly and pushing the rug back into place with a flourish. "Excellent…"

"It's all a matter of knowing where to look." Draco continued, handing the crumbling map to Sirius with a condescending look on his face. "And, obviously, you needed me. Obviously nothing would have been done without me, but will anyone admit it? No. No one wants to admit that I'm _indispensable_, even though _everyone_ knows it's true."

"It's a wonder you put up with it." mumbled Sirius, hastily unfolding the map and staring at it greedily. Draco preened.

"Well, you know, I _try_ to be helpful, just as long as it's not too inconvenient for me. And if we really are related then I don't suppose Father will be upset that I'm helping you, so really it all works out perfectly. Don't you think?"

"Mmhmm. Look, Draco, could you…could you go get James for me, real quick? Tell him I've found something interesting I want him to look at."

"Ooh, what?" Draco yanked Sirius' arm down and peered at the map. "No, _that_ passage's been blocked for _ages_, I _told_ you…and that one doesn't even go anywhere, it just goes in a great big circle around the Manor…"

"I'll get him myself then, shall I?" muttered Sirius, swatting Draco away impatiently. "Oi! James!"

James, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Harry as the two of them riffled through an upturned desk drawer, glanced up. "Hmm?"

"Can you – no, never mind, I'll come over to you." Brushing Draco to the side impatiently, Sirius hurried over to James and squatted down beside him. Spreading the map out before them and weighting down the corners with two candles, a magnifying glass, and an inkwell, Sirius jabbed his finger at one of the passageways winding away from the Manor towards a clump of trees in the northwestern corner of the map, which were marked, quite simply, as _The Forest_. "Look at this one." he began in an undertone, tracing the passage's serpentine path lightly with his finger. "It heads to the forest over here, and since they probably haven't extended their anti-apparition wards that far we'll be able to get to Hogsmeade once we reach it. Or even if they have pushed the wards out that far then we can just keep walking 'til they wear out, and we'll get out of here. Looks good, yeah?"

James pulled the map closer to him, biting his lower lip as he stared at the path Sirius outlined. "I suppose…" he began slowly.

"No, it doesn't, because I _told_ you that tunnel's broken!"

Draco was standing by Sirius' shoulder, his gray eyes flashing as Sirius swiveled around and fixed him with an exasperated look. "You told me _this_ tunnel was broken; you didn't say anything about this –"

"They're all broken, okay?" snapped Draco impatiently. "Three of the passages are broken, and that's one of them. It comes out right under a tremendously big waterfall. Unless you're all really, really quick you'll all be smashed to little bits, and if that's your plan then I'm done helping you now, and I'm off."

There was a pause – Harry looked stricken, James had carefully averted his eyes, and Sirius was trying not to smile.

"Er…sorry, then. You're absolutely right – you're a necessary part of this plan. Without you we're hopeless. I mean it." said Sirius, somehow managing to keep a straight face as he stared at Draco seriously. "And we would be infinitely obliged if you could help us come up with a better plan than my admittedly pitiful one."

Draco sniffed quietly, but uncrossed his arms and sank to the ground next to Sirius. "Look, there's four very secret passageways out of here, right? And three of them don't work. The intelligent thing to do would be to go down the one that's perfectly safe and alright. Obviously."

"Obviously." echoed James under his breath.

"So do that then. The entrance isn't far away, and I think it's a very pleasant and not really long path so you should be all right, even with _him_." Draco jerked his head at Remus, who was still lying unconscious on the couch. "So. That's the plan. It's a much better one than yours is, and it might actually work. The entrance to the passageway's exactly one floor down and two doors to the right. The door's bright red and it's locked, even though that shouldn't be a problem if you managed to break through the door into here."

Sirius frowned, exchanging a quick glance with James before turning back to Draco. "We…we didn't break into this room. The door just sort of…_opened_ for us, all on its own."

"Yes, and some of us didn't think it was important enough to ask why." interjected James, his mouth twitching as he cast a mock-severe glance at Sirius. Sirius had the grace to look abashed.

Draco looked confused for the first time since he'd appeared in the room some ten minutes ago. "There's only one key, and I have that." he said slowly, pulling the enormous key out of his pocket and turning it over in his hands. "Well, there is something else but you couldn't have that, not if you've been locked in the dungeons for months and months and you've been –" Draco caught sight of the look on Sirius' face and quickly added, "– elsewhere."

There was a moment's pause. And then, as one, everyone swiveled around and stared at Remus.

"Moony." said Sirius finally, sounding incredulous and more than a little proud as Remus began to stir fitfully. "_Moony_. I wonder how he managed to nick it. Should I search him, do you think?"

James, his face pale even in the dull half-light seeping through the darkly colored windows, nodded mutely and shifted slightly to the side. Sirius pulled himself to his feet with a muffled groan, but before he could take so much as a step towards Remus Draco jumped to his feet, grabbed Sirius' hand, and pulled him roughly back.

"If he stole it you have to give it back." he announced sharply, his mouth set in a thin line and his gray eyes flashing as he positioned himself in front of Sirius. "It's not yours and you have to return it."

Sirius growled, yanking his hand away from Draco and moving towards Remus. "Yeah? Tough. Apparently we can't get through this locked door of yours without it."

"You'll just have to find another way out, then. If you take it I'll, I'll…I'll fight you."

Sirius laughed. "Really? Excellent. You do that. And meanwhile would you mind moving out of the way so I can –"

"I'll tell my Father!"

Sirius exchanged a look with James. "Listen," he said, with as much patience as he could muster, "We need this key, wherever it is. Without it we can't get out, and we'll be found out and probably killed. They'll kill Harry, they'll kill James, they'll kill Remus, they'll kill me. If you had wanted to perfectly obey all your little rules then I don't think you'd have helped us in the first place. I promise this is the last favor I'll ever ask of you, ever again. Ever. Okay? Just let me find this key, use it one last time, and when we're all home again and out of your life for good then I'll send it back to you. Nobody need ever know it's gone. Does that work for you?"

Draco stared at Sirius stonily for a second. "Fine." he said icily, stepping to the side and allowing Sirius to stride over to Remus. "Fine. Just don't ask me for anything else, ever again. I don't care if we're related, I don't care if he's the 'boy-who-lived'. You're all awful. You're just an escaped convict, and he's just a needy, clingy little coward and he's better off dead and he's a horrible, filthy werewolf. I don't know why I bothered helping you in the first place. You can keep the key and go down your stupid passage and escape, or they can even capture you for all I care. Good bye, and send the key back and after that don't ever even try to talk to me ever again." With a final angry flourish of his cloak Draco spun around, stormed through the doorway, slammed the door shut behind him, and was gone.

Harry looked as though he was on the verge of bursting into tears, but James looked rather amused. "Well, I can certainly see the relation."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah. Cute little tyke, isn't he? Buck up, Harry…four years and you'll see him again. Might even share a room with him, and I'm sure your dad can attest to how much fun that'll be. Keys, keys…"

Sirius was riffling through the pockets of the shabby overcoat thrown over Remus. "Hmm, no keys…a necklace though, look…probably stole that, to–"

Sirius broke off suddenly, his body freezing as he stared at Remus in shock. Remus' eyes had snapped open – they were bloodshot and wild, and as Sirius stared Remus' hand shot up and grabbed Sirius' wrist so tightly Sirius gasped involuntarily.

"_You…_"

* * *

**A/N - **Poor Remus. Poor Draco. Poor everyone. Things are about to get nasty... 

A million thanks to _greeneyes_, _P_, _DemolitionxLovers_, _maria_ (x3), _fallenangel_, _Raven_, and _Arianne_ (I like slash too, but most of this story was written before I did. Hence, no slash. Sorry :)), the supremely wonderful anonymous reviewers. I love you all!

Oh, and on a brief side-note...from now on review responses are going to be limited to those people who a) wrote a particularly interesting review that I really have to comment on and/or b) have a question. Thanks!

Next update - _Escape, pt. II._ In which Remus wakes up fully, much to the consternation of all, a passageway is discovered, and Voldemort is very, very annoyed. Coming...eventually.

Thank you so much for your patience, everyone...I'll try to be better about this. Really, I will. Again - SORRY! - and please, _please_, _**please**_ review! Thanks, and bye!


	21. Escape, pt II

**A/N** - Whoohoo! Finally, an update that didn't take three months! I think I should be applauded for this...and longest chapter yet, to boot. Go me, go me...

Right. So, this chapter basically wrote itself - but, I like it. Hope you do to. Lotsa stuff happening, plot lines ending, characters making their adieus...

This chapter's dedicated to _Moony'sgirlthroughandthrough_ - very belated happy 16th birthday! I'm sorry I'm such a slow writer, and I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

Anyways - here it is, chapter 21. Enjoy!

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 21 – Escape, pt. II_

_August 10, 1987_

It was almost eerie, how completely silent the great hall had become. There was barely the rustle of wind, and it had been an hour or longer since footsteps had rung on the polished stone floor. Almost the only sound in the room, in fact, was the gentle clinking of a glass goblet as it was raised and lowered on to the room's massive wooden table.

Considering the utter tumult the hall had been in barely fourteen hours earlier, it was especially strange that there was now only one man left in the hall, meditatively sipping a vintage wineand every now and then glancing at his pocket watch.

Lucius Malfoy had an appointment to keep, and despite certain unforeseen circumstances and the very real danger of incurring the Dark Lord's wrath he'd be damned if he wasn't going to keep it.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, seemed to have different ideas. He was already nearly twenty minutes late.

Lucius was just raising his goblet to his lips for what felt like the hundredth time when Severus threw open the doors, stormed across the hall, slammed his hands down in front of Lucius and snarled, "_What in Merlin's name do you want now!"_

Lucius carefully lowered his glass, wiped his hands on a neatly folded napkin, and gestured for Severus to take a seat. "Mm. You're late. Would you care for some wine? It's an excellent vintage, practically sublime…"

"Have you lost your mind? The Dark Lord is furious, there is still no sign of Potter and his gang, Jugson was discovered unconscious in the dungeons twenty minutes ago, and you have the nerve to expect me to –"

"– To have the courtesy to keep your appointments, yes." interrupted Lucius, more sharply than he had intended. Quickly rectifying this with a congenial smile, he poured Severus a glass of wine and gestured once more towards the seat across from him. "Sit. We need to talk."

Severus' anger was quickly fading into petty rancor – a look of defeat passed briefly over his face, and he yanked out the proffered seat and slumped into it with a growl. "We don't have anything to talk about. And I don't want a drink."

"Wine breeds confidence, my friend. And what I am shortly going to tell you is told strictly in confidence – hence the wine. Here, take this…ah. Excellent. And now we can finally begin…"

"Are you planning on telling me what this is all about?" growled Severus, toying listlessly with the goblet Lucius had handed to him. Lucius smiled and raised his goblet slightly.

"Mm. Yes. Now listen very closely, and try not to interrupt…"

**ooooo**

_Sirius broke off suddenly, his body freezing as he stared at Remus in shock. Remus' eyes had snapped open – they were bloodshot and wild, and as Sirius stared Remus' hand shot up and grabbed Sirius' wrist so tightly Sirius gasped involuntarily._

"_You…"_

**ooooo**

Completely at a loss for what to say, Sirius just stared. For several long moments neither of them moved – and then finally Sirius cleared his throat, attempted to smile good-humoredly, and failed entirely. "Er…right. Hullo, Moony. Lovely to see you up and…well, up. And more or less about. James, take Harry and go."

James, who had been watching this exchange with rapt astonishment, started. "What?"

"I said take Harry and _go_." snapped Sirius, jerking his arm free from Remus' grip and rubbing his wrist. "One floor down and two doors to the right. And if you can't pick the lock then hide in an alcove, or something but just _go_. I'll knock him out again and meet you in a sec."

"Sirius…"

"**Go**."

James hesitated, and then nodded and stood up. "C'mon, Harry."

Sirius didn't turn around, but stood directly in front of Remus and continued to rub his wrist until he heard the sound of the door slamming shut. And then he exhaled and grinned affably at Remus, gently slapping his hand away when Remus lurched forward again. "Well, they're gone. I think we're all good now, yeah?"

Remus growled, staggering to his feet and staring at Sirius with maddened eyes. Sirius stuck his tongue out at him.

"Ngh. You silly daft bugger. Thanks to our dear friend Snivellus I am temporarily…well, not quite immortal, but you know. Rather resilient, and all that. Feel free to do your worst. Whatever Abaddon's done to you this time can't be worse than what he did to you last time, so…" Sirius broke off, comprehension suddenly dawning on his face. "Oh. _Shit_. He's done it again, hasn't he? Damn it. _Damn_ it. Look, Moony…we've always been best of friends, right? Right. And you wouldn't ever dream of hurting dear old Padfoot, would you? No!" Sirius was slowly backing away, the once affable grin on his face quickly fading into one of desperation. "Although that's the wrong thing to say, isn't it…the more you like me the harder you'll try to kill– oof."

Sirius had backed into one of the large, high-backed chairs littering the room. "Ouch. Damn. Okay. So this curse-thingy he's done makes you attack people you like. Fine. I can deal with that. You hate me anyways. This shouldn't be a problem." Suddenly aware that he was babbling, Sirius snapped his mouth shut and attempted to grin roguishly. The effect was rather marred by the fact that he was turning green around the edges. "So. Just so long as you remember where you stand we're all good."

Remus had dropped to a crouch, his eyes flashing and his skin clammy with sweat. "You're – Padfoot." he whispered thickly, each word blurred with pain. "You – didn't…kill…"

Sirius panicked.

"NO! No – this is not the time to be seeing sense, Moony. Remus. Whatever. I killed everyone! Let's pretend that. You hate me. With good reason, I might add. There's so much to hate around me. About me. There's so much to hate _about_ me. Just don't…don't…ah. Right. That's a candlestick. Put it down now, there's a chap…"

With an extreme effort Remus had pulled himself to his feet, grabbing an ornate bronze candlestick off of one of the tables and hefting it like a sword. There was still a part of himself left, Sirius could see that much, but the curse was quickly taking over his body, spreading like a virus, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

"Kill – me." hissed Remus, sweat plastering his light brown hair to his head and his eyes red with burst blood vessels. "Before…before…" He gasped, staggering backwards and falling heavily to the ground; Sirius swore loudly, scrambling back and using the chair as a shield – Remus, the _real_ Remus, was gone.

"Shit, shitshitshitshit…God _damn_ it Moony, you bloody, you bloody…_you bloody stupid werewolf!_"

Remus, or rather the curse that had taken over Remus' body, stood up, brushed himself off, and laughed. It was a pleasant, convivial laugh, and was ten times more frightening than any sinister cackle could ever be. "Come out, Padfoot…"

Desperate, Sirius grabbed the nearest thing he could reach, which happened to be an undoubtedly priceless but indisputably hideous silver-backed hand mirror. "No!"

He could hear Remus sigh. "Hmm. Please?"

"_No!_"

Remus laughed again, still pleasant, still terrifying. "You know how this works, don't you?"

Sirius frowned confusedly, his thoughts momentarily sidetracked. "How what works?"

He could all but see Remus roll his eyes. "_This_, you idiot. The curse."

"Oh. Ah. Yep, think so." There was a very pregnant pause as Remus waited for him to elaborate. "Oh, sorry. The curse – that's you, right? – takes over Moony's body and sets out to kill anyone he likes. Yeah. And you make the real Moony watch. That's what Remus said at any rate, and he'd know. So. Obviously you're defective, because if you had bothered to 'read his mind' you'd have seen he hates me. So. Care to go away?"

"Mm. No. I wouldn't. And you've forgotten one very important detail. And that is…"

"Eh. You're a right old bastard? Did I mention that?"

Sirius was sitting with his back against the chair, his knees drawn up to his chest and the mirror cradled in his hands.

He could hear footsteps approaching, and then suddenly stopping. He closed his eyes, steeling himself – and then hot breath brushed past his ear, and his eyes snapped open again, still staring deliberately forward.

"No." whispered Remus, leaning on the arm of the chair and gazing down at Sirius with an amused smile on his face. Unable to stop himself, Sirius glanced backwards – Remus' eyes were narrowed in amusement, and they were still blood-red. "What you forgot was the point I was actually expecting you to get at in the first place. Well, two points, now I think of it."

Sirius swallowed, and tried to look the part of the suave, cool-headed, refined hero. "Yeah?" he sneered, managing, with an enormous effort, to keep his voice from trembling. "And what are those?"

"Well," said Remus, somehow managing to look much more refined and suave than Sirius even though he was coated in blood and had nothing on but a tattered pair of trousers and a ratty overcoat, "Firstly, you're wrong."

Sirius spluttered indignantly. "How can you have been waiting for me to get at that? That, that…_that doesn't even make sense!_"

Remus ignored him. "The curse doesn't replace me with an alternate personality. It's still me, Padfoot. It's me you're cowering from behind that chair right now, and it's me that, any second now, is going to blast you into little tiny, sticky bits. I just thought you might want to know that before you die."

"Oh yes, very consoling." mumbled Sirius under his breath, hefting the mirror in one hand and with his other hand digging as subtly as he could manage through his pockets. Remus patted him on the shoulder.

"Incidentally, the point you were supposed to be 'getting at' is that one of the nicer side effects of the curse is that it makes me nigh on indestructible. Another consoling thought. Now when you die you won't have to feel you did a banged-up job of defending yourself."

Sirius really couldn't restrain himself at that. He turned around. "You don't even sound _remotely_ like Moony." he said incredulously. Remus shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Must be 'right old bastards' like you rubbing off on me."

Sirius actually laughed at that.

"Ha. Well. Let's see how you measure up, then." And Sirius stood up, rolling up the sleeves of his robes and holding the mirror out in front of him like a sword. "Do your worst."

**ooooo**

Severus grabbed the bottle of wine, not bothering to pour it into his goblet and instead taking a swig straight from the bottle. "So. That's where you stand, is it?"

Lucius nodded, taking the bottle from Severus' hands and conscientiously wiping the top with his napkin. "Yes."

Severus contemplated his empty wine glass for a moment. "Ah."

Lucius waited politely, but Severus didn't say anything else. "Yes. That is where I stand. I thought you might be interested to know that, since I strongly suspect that that's where you stand as well."

Severus looked up sharply, suddenly suspicious. "What –"

Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "No, don't say anything. Don't tell me anything. It's quite alright. More wine?"

Severus nodded, and mutely accepted the bottle from Lucius. He took another swig, wiped his mouth, and sighed. "So you're working against Voldemort now. Excellent. Now what do you expect me to do about it?"

Lucius shrugged. "Keep it to yourself – that goes without saying. I'm giving you partial access to most of my assets – obviously no one will know about this but us – and you can feel free to use them as you see fit." He raised a hand to before Severus could say anything. "I trust you. And if anyone does find out who shouldn't, I'm bribing you to perform my evil will upon the innocent, naïve students of Hogwarts."

Severus smiled reluctantly. "Fine. Is that it?"

Lucius hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes. Unless…never mind. Yes. That's it."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "'Unless?'" he prodded, taking another sip of wine and leaning forward slightly. Lucius smiled humorlessly, resting his elbows on the table and accepting the wine bottle from Severus with a sigh.

"Unless…unless Voldemort suspects something. If I die – if he kills me – then I've made you the legal heir to all of my estate. And also Draco's legal guardian, if anything happens to Narcissa."

Severus choked. "You can't be –"

"I am. I'm perfectly serious." said Lucius, his voice low but his eyes sharp and focused almost desperately on Severus. "He suspects something, I'm sure of it. And even if he doesn't he will sooner or later. I've never been a terribly good liar, as you know, and…that's all there is to it, really. You needn't worry about the dark lord suspecting you're involved in any of this – I've had everything tangled in a mess of technicalities and precedents and history. You're quite innocent in the whole affair." He leaned forward, his gaze intent and almost frightening. "If it does come to the worst, Severus, you have to do this for me."

Severus shook his head in disbelief. "We aren't even that good of friends…" he muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor and clenching his hands on the edge of the table. Lucius smiled, and exhaled slowly.

"Thank you, Severus."

**ooooo**

Sirius dropped to a crouch, swiveling around and ducking behind a chair as a curse shot past him, blasting into a mirror on the wall and smashing it into a thousand sharp fragments. "You missed!" he shouted, taking advantage of the momentary lull to dig frantically through his pockets. "Not even a scratch!"

"That can be remedied." said Remus, his voice still infuriatingly cool and amused. Sirius could hear him saunter towards him, and he swore under his breath. "There's no point hiding, Padfoot…I can vanish that chair if I want to…just like _that_…"

He snapped his fingers and laughed, and the chair disappeared. Sirius, caught unawares, toppled over backwards and looked up just in time to see a jet of crimson light shoot past where his head had been seconds before.

"Ditto on what I said earlier…" muttered Sirius under his breath, rolling to the right and leaping to his feet. "And look! I've found the wand! And you couldn't even manage to hit me when I was unarmed; just you look out now I've –"

Sirius broke off as Remus perched himself on the edge of a small side table and contemplated Sirius thoughtfully. "You might recall," he said pensively, biting his lower lip meditatively as he gazed at Sirius, "That it is going to be very, very difficult for you to kill me. And even harder if – as I rather suspect – you have absolutely no intention whatsoever of killing me, and merely want to knock me out."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah? Well how 'bout this – you let me go out and find James and Harry, and then maybe when the curse has worn off I'll come and get you. Sounds good, yeah?"

Remus shook his head and smiled. "That hardly sounds fair, does it? I'd much rather kill you here and now."

"Hmph. Well. I probably wouldn't walk out on you, anyways." Sirius hefted his wand again and pointed it straight at Remus' heart. "You hear that? I'm not planning on leaving you." Remus tilted his head and gazed at him quizzically.

"You really are very stupid." he said at last, shaking his head and ambling forwards. "I hate you. Nothing in the world would give me greater pleasure than killing you." He paused. "Well, almost nothing. I'd very much like to kill little Harry, as well…"

Sirius cracked. "Like hell you will," he growled, lunging forwards and tackling Remus to the ground. He cried out as a curse shot past his side, scorching through his robes and burning his arm, but he didn't loosen his grip. "You so much as touch my godson and I'll –" He broke off, gasping, as Remus elbowed him sharply in the chest. He tried to keep his hold on Remus but couldn't – Remus rolled out from under him and pushed himself to his knees, picking Sirius up and throwing him across the room with a frown and a wave of his hand. Sirius slammed into the far wall, sliding to the floor and landing on the ground in a crumpled heap.

"That's enough from you, Sirius." admonished Remus gently, getting to his feet and strolling over to Sirius' side. Sirius groaned something unintelligible, and Remus clucked his tongue reprovingly. "I'm perfectly serious." He bent down and grabbed Sirius hand, yanking him unceremoniously to his feet. "You're well and beaten. And to be perfectly honest I think this has really dragged on long enough – if you don't mind, I think it's time we ended it." Remus bent down again, this time to pick up Sirius' wand. He straightened and handed it to Sirius with a smile and a slight nod, then turned around smartly on his heel and took five long strides away from Sirius.

Sirius spat out a mouthful of blood and straightened with a growl. "Sounds good by me."

Remus laughed, spinning around again to face Sirius. "Well, then – shall we finish it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think maybe we should."

Something flickered in Remus' eyes then, but it was quickly lost in another laugh and another easy smile. "On the count of three. One…two–"

"**_Stupefy!_**" shouted Sirius, a jet of scarlet light bursting from his wand and hurtling straight at Remus' heart. Remus stepped casually to the side, missing the spell by inches – Sirius threw himself to the side as an answering burst of emerald light shot towards him, blasting over his head and lighting a large painting on the far wall on fire. "Incendio! Elecebra! _Stupefy!_"

Sirius was rolling to the side, shooting spells at random over his head. He could hear Remus laughing again, but it was distant and detached now, and Sirius didn't particularly care anymore. "Why the hell won't you – **_stupefy!_**"

Remus ducked the curse easily, throwing chairs and tables out of his way as he walked casually towards Sirius. "Three." he said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he drew to a halt and glanced at Sirius pityingly. "G'bye, Sirius."

There was silence, a moment's silence which was so heavy that Sirius hardly dared breathe – and then, with a wave of Remus' hand and an amiable smile, everything went black.

**ooooo**

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

James started, breaking his gaze away from the stone wall opposite him and turning to look down at Harry. "What?"

Harry was staring fixedly at his feet, brushing unthinkingly at a small cut on his hand as he shrugged and smiled timidly. "Why…why didn't you tell me you were my dad, before? You could've but you didn't. I would've believed you, you know…"

James smiled, matching Harry' smile with a rueful one of his own. "I was afraid you wouldn't. Believe me, I mean."

"I would've." repeated Harry softly, edging slightly towards James as James sank to the floor next to him. James sighed and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer and tousling Harry's hair gently.

"I know. It was stupid."

There was silence for a few moments. And then Harry, his eyes beginning to drift shut as he lay pressed up against James' side, stiffened. Someone was approaching them, his quick, nervous footsteps echoing and reechoing in the high-ceilinged corridor.

"Get behind me!" hissed James, shoving Harry further into the shadowed darkness of the doorway. The footsteps were drawing closer and closer, and with them now came a low, panicked voice – whomever it was that was approaching was mumbling restlessly to himself, and as he drew closer the words grew more defined.

"– wasn't my fault, none of it was; I had no choice, I had to, he made me…he'll understand…but Sirius…Sirius won't…"

James cried out softly, taking three quick steps forward before he could stop himself and staring in shock at the small, mousy-looking man standing in the middle of the corridor and staring at him in absolute terror. "…Peter?"

James' voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Peter Pettigrew flinched as though he'd been struck. James took another step forward, shock quickly giving way to rage. "You…_you_…" His voice was trembling with a mixture of fury and disbelief – Peter gasped and stumbled backwards, drawing his wand and pointing it at James with shaking hands.

"Stop! I mean it!" His voice was high-pitched and obviously terrified, but as James drew closer his eyes grew sharper and his hands stopped trembling. "Take another step forward and I'll…I'll…"

"Kill me?" suggested James, spitting out the words viciously and watching with a sort of bitter satisfaction as Peter flinched again.

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" stammered Peter, taking another stumbling step back and nearly falling. "It wasn't…I didn't know – I mean, I did know but I couldn't do anything, I had no choice…You don't understand…"

"_What don't I understand!_" spat James, his hazel eyes blazing now as Peter fell to the ground, dry, gasping sobs rising in his throat. "I _trusted_ you! I trusted–"

"I'm sorry!" choked Peter, recoiling violently as James drew to a stop in front of him. "You're right. It's my fault, everything's my fault, and I'm _sorry_…"

James snorted, reaching down and snatching Peter's wand out of his hand. "You have the nerve to–"

"I'm here to help you!" Peter scrambled backwards, stumbling to his feet and staring almost pleadingly at James through wide, frightened eyes. "I'm sorry, so sorry about everything and I need to – _you_ need to listen to me."

James shook his head, leveling the wand at Peter's head and narrowing his eyes. "Give me one reason why I should."

"I told you, I'm –"

The end of Peter's wand sparked menacingly, and Peter broke off and swallowed nervously. "Try again." said James softly, his eyes glinting ferociously in the half-lit corridor.

Peter shook his head but looked too terrified to speak. "I'm sorry." he whispered at last, wiping roughly at a few tears that were trickling down his grubby cheeks. "I really am. It's my fault that you died, and that Lily died, and that _everything_ happened, but, but you have to listen, because…because if you don't get out of here now they'll catch you, and…" He trailed off as James laughed bitterly.

"We _have_ a way out, Peter. We're leaving, any minute now. Without you or your 'help.'" James spat out the last as though it were something particularly distasteful. Peter just shook his head again, and James' look of fury slowly began to fade into a look of weary incomprehension. "Why, Peter? I just don't…_why?_"

Peter swallowed and sank to the ground, turning his head away from James and plucking half-heartedly at the sleeve of his robes. "I don't know." he whispered at last, turning slightly to look at James through watery blue eyes. "I don't know anymore." He laughed almost bitterly, and James could feel a new feeling grab hold of him.

"I'm never going to forgive you." he said softly, fixing Peter with a steely glare that was almost apologetic in its intensity. "Never."

Peter nodded. "I didn't ask you to." he whispered, a hint of a smile creeping across his face. He dispelled it with another shake of his head, and when he spoke again his voice was forcedly rough. "I just…I had to say sorry, and I didn't know if you knew about the horses or whatnot so I –"

"What?" interrupted James, falling to his knees and yanking Peter around to stare him in the eye. Peter stared at him confusedly.

"I said, I wanted to say –"

"You said something about horses." James shook Peter urgently when he didn't answer immediately. "What about horses? They're not man-eating, or –"

Peter laughed weakly and rubbed his eyes. "No…there's a herd of flying horses in the forest. Right at the end of this passage." Peter waved his hand vaguely at the doorway where James had stood a few minutes before. "I heard Lucius and Severus talking about them, months ago…" He looked up confusedly as James began to laugh. "What?"

"A herd of flying horses…" murmured James to himself, grinning despite himself as he jumped to his feet. "A whole…and they won't attack us?"

Peter shook his head. "Nah…I mean, maybe. If you don't have the key." Peter traced a shape vaguely in the air with his right hand – James noticed, distantly, that one of his fingers was missing. "Looks like a small horse. Very tiny. S'the master key to everything, which means Lucius should have it, only he gave it to Severus, and he sort of implied that he should give it to somebody else, so…" Peter broke off, acutely aware that James was now staring at him in complete bewilderment. "I made friends with the house elf." he muttered, reddening as he stared down at his feet. "And they don't know. About the animagus thing, and all. I never told them 'bout that."

James just shook his head. "This doesn't change a thing, you know that?"

"I know."

There was silence for a moment as they stared at each other. Finally James cleared his throat, pushing himself to his feet and looking purposefully away from Peter. "Right. Sirius'll be here any second, so…so you should leave now. Get back to Voldemort before he realizes you've gone."

Peter stood up as well, watching with a hesitant smile as James pocketed his wand. "No. I mean, I'll leave, but I'm not going back to him." James raised an eyebrow, and Peter shrugged abashedly. "He won't miss me. And he doesn't know, like I said, so…so it'll all work out. And you'll never have to hear from me again."

James nodded, wincing slightly as he shoved Peter gently away from him. "Fine. But if you ever come near any of us ever again, I'll kill you."

Peter smiled tightly and nodded. "G'bye."

There was a small _pop_ – James looked down automatically, but Peter had already vanished into the darkness.

James exhaled slowly and straightened. "Well, that's done." he said aloud, to no one in particular. He turned back to the alcove, smiling reassuringly as Harry, wide-eyed and obviously frightened, stepped out of the shadows and stared anxiously up at him.

"Who was that?" He could see more than hear Harry whisper the words.

"An…old friend." said James softly, gently herding Harry back into the shadowed doorway and stifling a groan as he sank to the ground. He could feel Harry curl up against his side, and he pulled him closer to himself with a sigh. "Just do me a favor, alright? Don't mention any of this to Sirius." He could feel Harry nod, and he smiled.

"Harry," said James after a moment, turning slightly to gaze down at Harry, "Any chance you've ever ridden on a horse before?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Dudley's afraid of horses." He looked up at James curiously, not noticing as James' eyes darkened at the mention of his cousin's name. "Why?"

James hesitated, and then shrugged. "…I'll tell you as soon as Remus and Sirius catch up." Harry nodded mutely, leaned against James' arm, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Remus'll be okay, won't he?" asked Harry after a moment, his voice barely audible even against the almost complete silence of the corridor.

"Course he will." whispered James, his voice only barely louder than Harry's as he closed his eyes and rested his head against Harry's jet black hair. It tickled his cheek gently, and he couldn't help but smile. "Sirius will sort him out, just you wait."

"Then why did he want us to leave?"

James considered this for a moment. "Well…we'd probably just be in the way, you see. He'll get Remus over whatever it is has got him down quicker if we're not there."

James could tell that Harry didn't entirely buy this, and after a moment Harry murmured, "But maybe we could've helped him."

"Nah. Padfoot – Sirius, sorry – doesn't need our help. Not for that, anyway…he and Moony get along pretty well. Most of the time. He'll sort it out, I promise."

"But what if he doesn't?"

James laughed, pulling Harry closer to him in a one-armed hug. "I love you. Have I mentioned that yet?"

He could feel Harry's smile as Harry burrowed into his side. "Yeah," Harry mumbled, blushing into the fabric of James' shirt. James' grin grew broader and messier in response.

"I love you."

Whatever it was that Harry said next James didn't hear – someone was staggering down the corridor, footsteps ringing erratically on the polished stone floor. "Ten sickles says this is them," whispered James, squeezing Harry's shoulder gently before pulling himself to his feet. "Don't move, alright?"

Drawing Peter's wand out of his pocket with his good hand, James stepped warily out of the shadow of the doorway and into the middle of the corridor. "Right. Whoever you are, stop now or I'll…or I'll be forced to do something _very nasty_ to you!"

The footsteps stopped abruptly, and James could hear someone snort. "S'only one person I know that can come up with threats of that caliber…" James' face broke into a broad grin – he lowered his wand, tucking it back into his pocket as an exhausted and battered Sirius limped into view. Every inch of him looked battered and bruised – as he approached James he smiled wearily, but his eyes were dull with a mixture of pain and tiredness and blood was still trickling down his face from a cut over his eye. He was half-carrying, half-dragging Remus, who, aside from being unconscious, looked in much better shape than Sirius.

"How are you?" asked James concernedly, taking three quick steps forwards and relieving Sirius of Remus. "How'd you –"

"– Feel?" finished Sirius, grimacing as he flexed his fingers and drew his wand from his pocket, "Like shit, thanks. You?"

"I'm fine. Listen – I know what the key is."

Sirius glanced up at him sharply, the dullness in his eyes fading as he stared at James. "What?"

"The key. The one Draco was talking about. Remus does have it, probably in that huge old coat of his; it's shaped like a small horse, and we need to find it because it'll get us out of this place…"

"How'd you –"

"I'll tell you later. We just need to get out of here, now…I'm sorry, Sirius; I can't carry him by myself…"

Sirius pulled his wand out of his pocket, flicking it tiredly at Remus and grunting, "Mobilicorpus." James let go of Remus, watching with a hint of concern as Remus floated into the air, drifting gently upwards until he was suspended like a puppet three feet above the ground. "Right. We should probably go now, yeah?"

"Yeah. Listen, Sirius –"

"Later." said Sirius, his voice almost harsh as he brushed past James and flicked his wand at Remus, sending him floating gently forwards. "Where's – Harry!" Sirius dropped to his knees, grabbing Harry in a one-armed hug as Harry hurtled out of the shadows and into Sirius' arms.

"Sirius! You're okay! I was afraid you wouldn't be, Remus looked so angry, he looked like he was going to _kill_ you…" Harry broke off, taking a step back from Sirius and staring at him in fright. "Where is he? Is he okay? Is he –"

"He's fine." interjected Sirius, pushing himself to his feet with a groan and pressing Harry up against his side. "He's excellent. Never better. Speaking of which, how're you? All good and in one piece?"

"Yes."

"Good. Brilliant. Can you do me a favor, Harry? Just hold this, just there…excellent." Sirius had handed Harry his wand – Harry held it with a look of awe on his face, and Sirius, smiling slightly, took a few steps forward until he was at Remus' side. "In his pocket, Prongs?"

"Probably. Look's like a horse." James leaned against the wall, hissing slightly as his back chafed against the stone and closing his eyes. "And they'll be looking for us soon if they aren't already, so..."

"Yeah, yeah." muttered Sirius, digging frantically through Remus' pockets and pretending to ignore the way Remus' limp body jerked back-and-forth. "Merlin, how many pockets does he need…hold it a bit stiller, would you Harry? Thanks…"

The seconds stretched into minutes – the only sound in the corridor was made by Sirius, riffling almost feverishly through Remus' overcoat. Harry was still standing stock-still, holding Sirius' wand almost religiously and fixing his eyes intently on it to be absolutely certain it wouldn't move. James had slid to the floor, his back still pressed up against the stone wall and his breathing growing slower and deeper.

"He doesn't have it." burst Sirius at last, after what felt like hours later. He threw up his hands in defeat and slumped to the floor, his entire body stiffening as he buried his head in his arms. "All he's got in that bloody coat of his are some sickles and stale chocolate. I've searched the whole bleeding thing and –"

"He has it." interrupted James, tilting his head slightly towards Sirius and cracking his eyes open. "Just…trust me. We'll just have to send him in ahead of us; the door will unlock itself for him."

Sirius raised his head and focused on James – his gray eyes were tired and exhausted, but his mouth was set into a thin, hard line and his body was tensed in anticipation. "Trust you?"

James nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips as he stared intently at Sirius. "Yeah."

Sirius began to smile slowly. "Well. Why not." He pushed himself to his feet, accepting his wand back from Harry with a flash of a smile and turning his head slightly to grin roguishly at James. "After you?"

**ooooo**

He woke up screaming, a thousand different memories assaulting his mind all at once and his head feeling as though it were about to split in two. He was in complete and unforgiving darkness, the only noise in the otherwise utter silence the sound of his own screaming.

_He was kneeling in front of Lupin, watching through breathless eyes as the werewolf's body shuddered and amber-colored eyes stared up at him, dilated in fear…There was a flash of color, red or white, he couldn't tell which, and another scream of pain, this one even more desperate than the last…_

"Stop it; stop it stop it stop it…"

_"You will ensure that our guests are incapable of any more…unexpected surprises"…He was laughing, laughing as he watched them scream, laughing at the blood, laughing even as he realized that there wasn't anything funny about it at all…_

He screamed again, louder this time, his hands scrabbling desperately against the unforgiving stone floor. "Stop it, _stop_ it…"

_He pulled off his cloak with a flourish, vanishing the bloodstains on it with a smile and a wave of his hand…_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry my darlings, I'm so sorry but just make it stop, _please_ stop…"

_James was sobbing, calling for Harry, for Lily, for Sirius and Remus and Peter but never so much as a whisper for pity…Remus was staring at him, his eyes glaring defiantly at him even though he was too weak even to stand…_

"**_STOP IT!_**"

He lay panting in the darkness, his arms wrapped around his head and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He could still feel the memories, the half-thought out feelings and the pain surrounding him, at bay for the moment but ready to surge back at any second, and he whimpered softly. "Leave me alone…" he whispered, a single tear trailing slowly down his cheek as he cracked his eyes open and stared into the darkness.

_You failed._

The thought came unbidden into his mind, and he cried out softly as though he'd been struck. "I-I–"

_You failed. _

"I d-didn't…"

**_You failed!_**

Abaddon Jugson screamed, clapping his hands to his ears and squeezing his eyes shut again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He was sobbing now, curled helplessly on the floor as the darkness closed in around him, smothering and suffocating him.

_You failed, and he's going to kill you…_

"N-no…" Abaddon shuddered again, bile rising in his throat as he pushed himself to his feet and staggered forwards. He was bent nearly in double, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach and his eyes still squeezed tightly shut. He was choking on the darkness, his throat burning as he gasped for breath. "I didn't, he w-won't…"

_He will._

Abaddon stopped suddenly, holding his breath as he reached out and brushed the stone wall with trembling fingers. He cried out, staggering forward and pressing his body against the stone – he slid to the floor, his sobbing quieting and finally stopping as he lay pressed against the wall. "He won't." he whispered again, his mind racing feverishly as he slowly unwrapped his arms from around himself and began to grope in the darkness. "He won't…"

Finally he found what he was looking for. His fingers tightening around the narrow shaft of wood, he pulled away from the wall, breathed in deeply, and staggered to his feet. His hands were trembling violently, but when he spoke again his voice was soft but steady. He raised his wand, and pointed it at his head. "Avada Kedavra."

There was a burst of emerald green light, blinding in its intensity, and then a soft thump as Abaddon's body hit the floor. And then only silence and darkness once more.

**ooooo**

It was almost three in the afternoon – the sun was blazing in the western quarter of the sky, glinting off of the gently rippling pool in the middle of the forest and throwing the rest of the small clearing into a mess of dappled shadow and cheery golden light.

The forest was alive with sound – birds singing, wind rustling the leaves and water chattering over stone. And then another sound, this out of place in the middle of the uninhabited forest – someone laughing.

"That's hardly fair, Sirius…"

The laughing continued, growing now, until finally from behind a massive boulder three men and a boy stepped forth.

Sirius Black, his grey eyes still glinting wickedly and his mouth curled in a smile, clambered into the clearing and flicked his wand at Remus, sending him hurtling into a pile of bracken at the far end of the clearing. Sirius winced. "Sorry, mate…"

Harry was next, and then finally James. James looked exhausted – every inch of him was covered in bruises and dried blood, and although he was walking on his own it was obviously through a great effort of will that he was standing at all. As he exited the passageway, however, he drew in a deep breath and smiled. "You know, this is the first time I've been outside in three months."

Sirius looked as though he was about to say something, but then thought better of it and just laughed. "Right. Let's get out of here before we make it the last, yeah?"

James smiled back, but his grin soon faded as he glanced around the clearing uncertainly. "I don't see any horses, Sirius…"

"What?"

Sirius spun around, his eyes widening as he realized that James was right. "I thought you said…"

"Obviously I was wrong." said James slowly, shielding his eyes against the sun and glancing around worriedly. "Unless…you don't think they might be thestrals, do you?"

"Nah," said Sirius instantly, waving his hand dismissively. "We'd have seen 'em."

"Unless they aren't here right now."

"But if the reason we can't see them is because they're not here then it's pointless to say that they might be thestrals – they could just as well be any other sort of flying –"

"But they _could_ be thestrals."

"But that's irrelevant! No matter what sort of horse it is that's supposed to be here, it's not here right now. And _that's_ why we can't see it; not because it's a –"

"Although we've both seen people die, so even if it was a thestral I suppose we could see it."

"Yes, I've said that already…"

Harry, somewhat bemused as to the nature of this conversation, stepped away from James and stared around the clearing in astonishment. Something in particular at the far end of the clearing caught his eye – he squinted, staring intently at it for a moment, and then realized what it was.

Staggering backwards into Sirius, still staring with an almost horrified fixation at the opposite end of the small glade, Harry tugged forcibly on Sirius' hand and whispered fearfully, "Sirius? There's something over there…,"

"If you'd been – what?"

Sirius glanced down and, after a moment, dropped to his knees. Harry's green eyes were wide behind his broken wire-rimmed glasses, and he was visibly trembling as he turned to stare urgently at Sirius. "There." Harry whispered, pressing himself up against Sirius' side and pointing with a shaking hand in the direction he'd been staring.

Sirius gazed uncomprehendingly at the far end of the clearing – after a moment his eyes began to widen, and his face split in a grin. "I knew it wasn't thestrals…"

James, his gaze flickering between Harry and Sirius and the other side of the clearing, touched Sirius' shoulder lightly in inquiry. "Aethonans." said Sirius, gently pushing Harry towards James and getting to his feet with a stifled groan. "At least four of 'em, over there in the trees." James glanced up, and Sirius rolled his eyes and swatted gently at his head. "Not up there, you idiot – _there_." He grabbed James' head, swiveling it around to point in the right direction – James stared unseeingly for a moment, and then finally comprehension dawned on his face.

"Oh. _Oh_. Right. Good! Should we walk over and get them, or –"

"You can't just walk over to them! They'll fly away and then we'll be stuck. No, we've got to do it _subtly_…"

"Yeah? And how do we do that?"

Sirius thought about this for a moment. "Got any rope?"

James groaned. "We're not going to lasso them, Sirius…"

"Any better ideas, then?"

"Give me a moment, would you…"

"Remus."

Sirius and James both swiveled around and stared down at Harry in astonishment. "What?"

Harry, suddenly looking rather abashed, stared down at his feet and bit down on his lip. "The man said the horses won't attack you if you have the key, right? And Remus has the key. So maybe if they see Remus is with us they'll know we're friends."

"What man?" asked Sirius, at the same time that James said, "Brilliant!" They stared at each other for a moment, Sirius' gaze questioning and James' elated – then James grabbed Sirius' arm, smiling placatingly at him and murmuring, "Later." Sirius swallowed back a sharp retort and with difficulty nodded, pulling his arm free of James' grip and walking back towards the large boulder where Remus floated barely a foot above the ground.

"This whole thing's way over my head, mate." muttered Sirius, glancing up at Remus' face with a bitter smile as he waved his wand and muttered something under his breath – Remus hovered for a brief moment in the air, and then fell straight into Sirius' waiting arms. Sirius winced, staggering under Remus' weight, and laughed humorlessly. "Merlin, I'm ready to go home…"

Sirius stumbled back towards Harry and James, Remus held limply in his arms. "Right. Here he is. Now what?"

James, now beginning to look as though he wasn't entirely sure this would work after all, shrugged. "Er…show him to them, I guess."

"Can't they see him now?"

James bit his lower lip and glanced at Sirius apologetically. "Maybe you should move in a bit closer…"

"What, they can't see him from here?" Sirius raised his voice, glaring fiercely at the half-hiddenhorse that was surveying them pensively from the safety of the wood. "Oi! You there! We have the key, so you'd better come out here now or we'll be seriously –"

"Sirius? Shut up."

Three horses were stepping into the clearing, their liquid brown eyes trained on Remus and their enormous feathered wings spread to catch the full brunt of the afternoon sun. Up close they looked enormous – the one nearest to Sirius was a good two heads taller than him, each of its feet the size of small plates and its outstretched wings at least twelve feet long. It whickered warningly as Sirius approached, and Sirius froze. "Now what?"

James shrugged. "Make friends."

Sirius' voice was beginning to rise with panic as the horse began to trot closer to him. "Ha, very funny. That's an excellent suggestion, Prongs! Just superb. I'll just 'make friends' with what is undoubtedly a highly volatile and dangerous –"

James sighed. "It's a _horse_, Sirius."

Harry giggled – Sirius, unable to withstand this new attack on his dignity, steeled himself and began to walk slowly forward, gazing fearfully at the horse all the while. "Hello, mate…Sirius Black, at your service…" The horse ducked its head at his approach, sniffing Remus and nuzzling his side, and almost at once Sirius' anxious face split into a relieved grin. "James, if you ever suggest anything like that ever again, I may very well have to kill you."

James rolled his eyes, walking forward to stand by Sirius and carefully ushering Harry forward with him. "Pansy. Let's say Harry and I take this horse and you and Remus take one of its friends, will that work?"

"Yeah, probably." Sirius bent down, laying Remus carefully on the ground before inching over and lacing his fingers together to give James a hand up. He heard James hiss sharply as he slid onto the horse's back, and he averted his eyes, pretending not to have heard – finally James was up, and he straightened. "Right. Your turn, Harry." He lifted Harry up, grunting slightly with the effort, and set him in front of James – Harry looked more exhausted than afraid now, and as James wrapped his arms around him he closed his eyes and leaned back against James' chest.

"Dad?" whispered Harry, cracking one eye open and glancing up at James as Sirius hoisted Remus onto the back of another of the horses. James, unable to keep from smiling, glanced down.

"Hmm?"

"Are we going home now?"

James laughed softly, bending down slightly to kiss Harry on the top of his head. "Yeah. We're going home."

**ooooo**

When they finally arrived at Hogwarts the sky was a canvas of red and purple and orange, ribbons of gold in the west and dusky blue in the east. There wasn't so much as a breath of wind – the lake was still as glass, reflecting the watercolor sky and the ancient castle standing sentinel over it all, and the silvery moon was just rising in the east as the dying sun faded in the west.

James dismounted the horse as quietly as he could, suppressing a groan as his sore and battered body rubbed against the horses' side. Harry was fast asleep, his mouth slightly open and his hands tangled in the horse's mane. With a sigh and a tired smile James lifted Harry off of the horse's back, careful not to wake him even as the horse whinnied and pawed the ground nervously. "Here we are…"

Sirius was already dismounted, one of his arms wrapped around Remus' waist while with his other arm he patted his horse's neck gratefully. "Good lads, these." he said cheerfully, his voice betraying none of the tiredness James was sure he must feel as he surveyed the two horses appraisingly. "Very gentlemanly. They've done their duty by us, and no mistake."

James was too exhausted to argue this point, even if he'd wanted to. "How do we get them to leave?"

"Ask 'em to, obviously." Sirius leaned forward, whispering into the horse's ear – the horse cocked its head as though to listen, and after Sirius finished and straightened it whinnied. "Right. No problem."

James waited a moment. One minute stretched into two – finally he coughed politely, fixing Sirius with a questioning look. "Padfoot? They're still here."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I'd noticed that." Sirius contemplated this for a moment, still staring thoughtfully at the horse's face – when nothing continued to happen he gave an exasperated snort and shoved the horse roughly away from him. "Go on, go!"

It was all the horse seemed to have been waiting for. It began to trot away from Sirius, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until soon it was galloping straight towards the lake – feet from the shore it leapt into the air, wings spreading and beating powerfully into the night sky. James' horse followed, until soon they were nothing more than coppery pinpricks against the sky. Seconds later and they were gone completely.

James sighed, tearing his gaze away from the sky and staring instead up at the castle. Warm, inviting light spilled from a hundred different windows and doors, beckoning to him and drawing him irresistibly forward, and before he knew it he was complying, staggering forward up the rough dirt path towards the school.

"Oi, Prongs! Wait up!"

It was as though a trance had been broken – James stopped suddenly, breaking his gaze away from the castle and trying to catch his breath as Sirius, half-carrying, half-dragging Remus, stumbled towards him. "What's gotten into you, mate?"

James shook his head, chancing a glance back at the castle and the warm, golden light spilling from it. "I just…I need this to be _over_, Sirius…"

Sirius nodded slowly, clapping James gently on the shoulder before pulling back to give James more space. "Right. Just – be careful, would you?" James looked properly chastened, and Sirius softened. "You want to know what I can't wait for? A real bed." He started off down the path again, James keeping pace with him now and Remus' arm still slung over his shoulder. "With lovely feather pillows and mountains of blankets and all the time in the world to do just as you please."

"In other words to sleep."

"Yes. And a fire too, I miss fires – lovely smoldering fires that are dying and crackling and spitting out sparks at you when you're trying to relax in front of them with hot chocolate and a cat. I miss your cat. That one you got in third year to impress Lily, before you knew she was allergic? I loved that cat. It was the greatest damn cat I think there ever was."

"How many times did she try and bite your nose off?"

"Thirteen. But still…Chianti, right? I loved Chianti. I swear there was never a better cat for sitting on your lap in front of a fire and eating all the marshmallows you'd accidentally set on fire. Even if you looked the whole world over you couldn't find a better one. How'd she die, again?"

"Snape threw her out a window."

"Yeah. Bastard." Sirius stared ruminatively off into the distance. The castle lights were growing closer and closer, even as the night around them grew darker and darker. They were barely fifty feet from the castle doors now, one of which was thrown wide open in the hopes of inviting in a nonexistent breeze. "Maybe I should get a cat. Only it wouldn't be half so brilliant as Chianti, that's the problem."

James shrugged, swallowing back a cry of pain as he began to slowly ascend the steps leading up to the doors, Harry still in his arms. "You never know. I'm sure you'd rub off on it a bit, at any rate."

"Mm. I s'pose." They were at the top of the steps now, the door open before them and a circle of welcoming, yellowy light surrounding them. "Right. After you?"

**ooooo**

He glanced down at his pocket watch, then up at the stained-glass windows lining the great hall. It was nearly six, and the light falling into the hall through the crimson and emerald and violet panels was dusky and growing darker. With a sigh he laid down his quill, picked up the yellowing piece of parchment he'd been writing on and, after a moment's consideration, tore it in four. Lucius Malfoy, his grey eyes tired and his face paler than usual, poured himself a final goblet of wine, picked it up, and got to his feet. "To hell with this," he muttered, to no one in particular – with a sigh he drained his goblet, threw it down, and strode out of the great hall.

The manor was eerily silent – the Death Eaters who had arrived the previous night were all gone, whisked away to some other, more hidden place somewhere else, and Lucius' footsteps rang eerily on the flagstone floor as he strode down the hallway, up one flight of stairs and then up another.

Finally he stopped in front of a large mahogany door. He straightened, swallowed, and with a discomfited smile pushed the door open. "Draco?" he whispered, instinctively keeping his voice down as he stepped into the room and closed the door softly. "Are you here?"

There was a soft exclamation, and a light flicked on, throwing the entire room into warm, comfortable light. "Father!" Lucius smiled again, more out of relief than anything. Draco was lying on his bed, a guilty smile on his face and something shoved rather conspicuously under the covers.

"I was just…making sure you were still up here." said Lucius lamely, sitting down on the edge of Draco's bed and toying listlessly with the covers. "So. Are you fine? Is everything alright?"

"Yes…," said Draco slowly, his brow furrowing slightly as he stared at Lucius confusedly. "Why?"

Lucius shrugged slightly, staring at absentmindedly at one of the dark oil paintings bedecking the bedroom wall. "No reason." There was an awkward silence for a moment – finally Lucius cleared his throat, turning slightly to smile at Draco. "Weather's nice tonight, isn't it?"

Draco shook his head slowly. "Is something wrong, father?"

"What? No. Everything's fine. I just wanted to see how you are, that's all."

Draco began to smile hesitantly. "I'm fine." He shifted slightly to the side, hiding whatever it was that was under his blankets from Lucius' view. "Is everyone gone? Can I come downstairs now?"

"Soon." Lucius reached over, brushing a strand of Draco's hair to the side and smiling wistfully. "Not yet. There's one thing left that has to be done, and then you'll be free to do whatever you like."

Draco considered this for a moment, grabbing Lucius' hand and pulling it down to his lap. He bit his lower lip, playing absentmindedly with Lucius' hand and staring determinably at his lap. "What's he still have left to do?"

"Nothing I need to worry you about." said Lucius softly, sliding closer to Draco and gazing pensively at him. Draco, not so easily deterred, shook his head.

"It doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?"

Lucius sighed. "Draco…"

"No! I knew it had something to do with you, I _knew_ it…" Draco pulled away from Lucius, grabbing a pillow and hugging it protectively to his chest as he glared at Lucius. "Why do you keep _doing_ this! Why do you –"

"Quiet!" snapped Lucius, clapping his hand over Draco's mouth and glancing uneasily towards the door. "Don't talk like that Draco, not while he's still here…"

Draco shoved Lucius' hand away, his eyes glittering but his mouth set in a furious line. "I'm not afraid of him." he announced loudly, burying his head in a pillow and recoiling when Lucius tried to grab his hand. "And I don't like him, and I'm never going to work for him, never."

"Draco!" said Lucius sharply, cupping his hand around Draco's chin and forcing Draco to look at him. Draco stared at him defiantly, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks flushed. Lucius softened, brushing Draco's cheek with his thumb and smiling sympathetically. "Draco, it's okay."

"I'm not –" Lucius raised an eyebrow, and Draco broke off with a low sob.

"It's okay." repeated Lucius, his voice softer now as he leaned forward and wrapped Draco in his arms. "Everything's going to be okay."

"How can you say –"

"Because I'm your father, that's why." Lucius pulled back from Draco, brushing away Draco's tears with the back of his hand and smiling reassuringly. "And if anything horrible threatens to happen I'll fend it off."

Draco sniffed loudly and gave a watery smile. "Like a knight?"

Lucius leaned forward and smiled confidentially. "Like a king."

Draco leaned forward again, nestling against Lucius' chest and closing his eyes. "What am I, then?"

"What?"

"If you're the king then what am I?"

Lucius laughed, burying his head in Draco's hair and inhaling deeply. "The prince, obviously."

Draco was silent, apparently contemplating this for a moment. Then – "I'd rather be the king. The king can do whatever he likes."

Lucius' throat hitched. He was silent for a moment, not trusting himself to speak. "Draco," he said at last, his voice hoarse as he pulled back and stared at Draco intently, "Can you promise me something?"

Draco blinked confusedly, but nodded. Lucius, suddenly unable to speak, smiled weakly and cupped Draco's face in his hand. "Whenever…whatever he happens," he said at last, bending down slightly to look Draco in the eye, "Promise me you'll be alright. Promise me – promise me you'll look after yourself."

Draco shook his head slowly, gazing at Lucius confusedly. "I don't –"

"No matter what happens," said Lucius, speaking more quickly now as the edges of the room grew darker and darker, "I have to know you'll be alright."

Draco was beginning to look frightened. "What are you talking about?"

Lucius tried to speak but couldn't – with a low sob he leaned forward, pulling Draco into a bone-breaking hug and closing his eyes. "I love you." he whispered, his voice taut with suppressed emotion. "And I need to know that no matter what you'll be alright. No matter what you'll be fine."

Draco nodded once, and Lucius swallowed and, with a great effort of will, pulled back. "Good. Good. Thank you." He smiled weakly, and Draco, hesitantly, smiled back. "I need to go now, Draco…"

He made to get up, but before he could Draco grabbed his hand and pulled him back. "You'll be fine too, won't you?"

Lucius didn't answer immediately, and Draco's grip on his hand tightened. "You'll come back?"

Lucius couldn't answer. He leaned forward, kissing Draco's forehead gently and squeezing his hand – but then he pulled away, sliding quickly off the bed and striding towards the door. "Draco?"

Draco sniffed loudly and hurriedly wiped his eyes. "Yes?"

Lucius, his back to Draco and his hand on the doorknob, paused and smiled. "Don't let your mother catch you eating chocolate up here."

Draco, a stunned look on his face, pulled the small pile of chocolate bars out from under his covers and stared at Lucius in astonishment. "How'd you –"

Lucius laughed and tilted his head towards Draco. "I'm the king, remember? I know everything."

Draco smiled hesitantly. "I think I'd rather be the prince, anyway."

Lucius nodded and smiled, pulling the door open and stepping into the hallway. "Good night, Draco." He paused for a moment, and then steeled himself and closed the door with a snap.

He walked down the hallway slower this time, taking his time as he strolled down the two flights of stairs and down another hallway into the great hall. The entire hall was now illuminated in warm, flickering firelight, the braziers lining the hall blazing merrily and the fire in the magnificent stone fireplace at the end of the hall crackling invitingly.

Lucius Malfoy closed and locked the large wooden doors behind him – as an afterthought he pulled out his wand, and soundproofed the hall with a wave of his hand. Then he turned back to face the hall, tucking his wand back into the pocket of his robes and lifting his head a trifle higher.

Lord Voldemort was standing alone in the middle of the hall, his back to Lucius and his wand held loosely at his side. As Lucius closed the door he turned around, his red eyes glinting in the dancing firelight. "Lucius. I was waiting for you."

Lucius swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I rather suspected you would be." He began to walk forward – slowly at first, and then with a trace of arrogance in his step. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

An ugly scowl crossed Voldemort's face. "I've all the time in the world, thanks to you." he said silkily, his long white fingers tightening around his wand. "They're gone. Both Potters, Black, and Lupin. They're off the grounds, away from the wards and probably halfway to Hogwarts by now."

"A pity."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "It has recently come to my attention," he snarled, his face darkening as he took three quick steps forward, "That you have betrayed me. Do you know what the punishment for traitors is, Lucius?"

Lucius nodded, sparing a glance to the side as Death Eaters, their faces hooded and masked, stepped out of the shadows and stared at him in silence. "Death, I presume."

"Yes. It is." But Lucius wasn't looking at Voldemort anymore – he was gazing closely at the crowd of silent Death Eaters, scanning them intently. Finally he found the person he was looking for – Severus Snape was standing in the far corner of the hall, his hunched posture and scowl instantly recognizable even despite his mask and the fact that he was half-hidden in shadow. Lucius smiled, and nodded slightly – Severus' nodded almost imperceptibly, and Lucius shifted his gaze back to Voldemort.

"My lord, I've ever been your most faithful, your most humble –"

"Silence!" roared Voldemort – the flames in the stone fireplace leapt higher, and Lucius snapped his mouth shut.

Voldemort, his skeletal face contorted in fury, strode forward until he and Lucius were standing inches apart. "Don't mock me," he hissed, his scarlet eyes narrowing and his wand stabbing into Lucius' neck, forcing Lucius to raise his head and stare him in the eye. "You allowed them to escape."

Lucius' eyes flashed. "I did not."

Voldemort's lipless mouth curled in a vicious, humorless smile. "Where is the key, Lucius?"

Lucius froze. "What key?" he answered, his voice calm only through a great effort of will. Voldemort's smile grew.

"You know perfectly well what key." he whispered, leaning forward slightly and pressing his wand viciously into Lucius' throat. Lucius shivered and closed his eyes, but didn't answer. Finally Voldemort's smile turned into a disgusted scowl, and he shoved Lucius to the floor with a snarl. "Crucio." he growled, stabbing his wand at Lucius as Lucius began to push himself back to his feet.

The curse threw Lucius back to the floor – he was being stabbed a hundred thousand times by white hot knives; pain was shooting through his body, consuming him and burning him from the inside out, and it went on and on and on…but he wouldn't scream, no matter how badly it hurt he would kept that last shred of dignity and pride around him, and so he bit down on his lower lip, bit down so hard he could feel warm, coppery blood rush into his mouth…

Finally Voldemort raised his wand, his face unreadable but his eyes glinting menacingly in the dancing firelight. Lucius was shivering uncontrollably, his body still wracked with pain as he spat out a mouthful of blood and pushed himself to his knees. "My lord," he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse as he lifted his gaze and stared almost desperately at Voldemort, "I have ever been your most faithful, your most humble ser–"

"Crucio."

This time he couldn't help it – he screamed, screamed until it felt as if his throat was raw and bleeding, screamed until finally after what felt like hours Voldemort raised his wand again. His arms were shaking almost too badly to support him, but somehow he managed to push himself back onto his knees. He was glaring defiantly at Voldemort now, even though when he spoke his voice was barely more than a forcefully controlled sob. "Your most faithful, your most humble servant…"

"Crucio."

He was on the floor again, screaming until he thought his lungs would burst, screaming until he couldn't think any more.

"Crucio."

"Crucio."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N - Yeah...yeah. Er - before I'm drawn and quartered by any rabid Lucius fans, I really must say that I was surprised and a bit horrified that it happened, as well. Up until this chapter I didn't think any of the good guys would die. But like I said above, this chapter completely wrote itself...

On a more cheerful note - how was Abaddon's death? I had quite a lot of people clamoring for a spectacular ending for him, so any thoughts on that (good or bad!) will be loved and cherished.

Also - special thanks to _SeriousSiriusFan_ (x2), _Moony'sgirlthroughandthrough _(happy belated b-day! Hope you like the (admittedly horribly late) present!), _Risu_, _YoYo_ (Wow - I think that's one of the greatest compliments anyone's ever given me), _maria_, _P_, _Sandra_, _sigi_ (No...the story's not going to extend that far, sorry. I mean, I know what's going to happen afterwards but I'm not going to write out that far - if you want to know the whole scoop leave your email and I'll email it to you), _Will/Elizabeth F-O-R-E-V-E-R_, _Polly wants a cracker...gas..._, and _Genna_ - the anonymous reviewers! I love you all!

Next update - _(at the moment untitled). _In which Hogwarts is entered, our heroes fall to pieces, and Dumbledore is very, very confused. Probably not coming any time soon, on account of school and horrid honors classes.

Right. **PLEASE**, **PLEASE** review and tell me what you thought of everything, and a million thanks to everyone who's already reviewed! Til next time - G'bye!


	22. Almost Like Home

**A/N - **Hey! Look, an update that took only about a month...how exciting. Heh. So, this chapter's not half so long as the last...but the next chapter should be very long, so hopefully that'll make up for it.

Also, since apparently I did a lousy job of making this clear in the last chapter - LUCIUS IS DEAD. Sorry. Poor Draco's dad-less now.

Oh, and before I forget...a lot of people have been wondering and asking about what happens to Harry and Draco once they get to school. The story's not going to extend that far, _however_ - at one point it was going to, and I still have all the notes and such I typed up about that. So, if you're interested, you can email me or ask me in a review for the notes and I'd be more than happy to send them to you. There's really not much left to spoil at this point, but if you'd rather you can wait until the end of the story (chapter 25) and ask me then.

**One more thing - there is a VERY important note as to future updates at the bottom of the chapter. Please, please read it!**

Wow, this is getting long. So, without further ado, may I present for your (hopeful!) enjoyment:****

The Track of a Storm

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 22 – Almost Like Home _

_August 10, 1987_

He snapped the book shut with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. It was barely seven yet, but it felt much later. This, he was quite certain, was on account of the fact that he'd been awake for nigh on two days now – as tired as he was he didn't think he could sleep, not when so much had happened. His eyes would droop, and without realizing it he'd rest his head on his desk and close his eyes, and then he'd start _thinking_ and suddenly he'd be awake again and reaching for another book from the seemingly endless stack. There was a little niggling feeling right in the back of his mind, whispering that he was missing _something_, that if he just realized this one thing then **BAM**, everything would make sense – and it was infuriating, because he hadn't the faintest idea what it was that he didn't know.

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and generally acknowledged as the greatest wizard alive, hated to leave anything unsolved. Especially something as big as this. And so, even though he realized it was probably little more than an exercise in futility, he kept looking.

There are, however, limits to what even the most stalwart of endeavourers can endure. Albus Dumbledore had gone for a week without tea, two days without sleep, and months with vague, insubstantial thoughts floating around his brain and refusing him a moment's respite. Enough was enough. Sleep was impossible and there was no getting rid of that little nagging voice in his head, but tea he needed. Desperately.

He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, blinked back a haze of tiredness from his eyes, and, after a moment's thought, dug his favorite thick woolen robe out from under a mound of discarded wads of paper.

It was a long walk to the kitchens.

**ooooo**

"Do you know how nice it is to be here? I mean, do you have any idea? I'll tell you how nice it is. It's so wonderfully, perfectly nice, I can't even begin to tell you. _That's_ how nice."

"You're not making any sense."

"It's like we're finally home again, that's what it is. God, I feel like I'm seventeen again." Sirius was staring around at the sleeping portraits and swirling tapestries with an almost childlike delight – when he spoke his voice had an edge of giddy laughter to it. "Like any second now McGonagall's going to swoop down on us and give us detention for being out of bed. Good old Minnie, I wonder how she's doing these days…and Filch too, can't forget him, all those times he caught us out of bounds – d'you remember, James? We had practically a whole cabinet to ourselves, didn't we…Hey, remember that time he caught us after we'd tried to sabotage Slytherin right before the first game of the year? And he suspended you from the game, only the next day we played dumb and pretended we'd been up asleep and in bed the whole time and then McGonagall blew up on him, asked him what he thought he was doing, trying to break up the team right before the big game, haha…that was back in second year, after that she knew us to well and was on to our clever tricks…"

James, his face glistening with sweat, smiled weakly. "Your stupid tricks, you mean."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at him. "Berk. My brilliant plans, is what I meant. Your plans were only ever mediocre compared to the grandiosity of mine."

"You're a prig, Black."

Sirius banished the insult with a wave of his hand. "Oh, shove it, Potter. Merlin, I really do feel like I'm seventeen again, I mean it…like I could just do whatever in the world I want and damn what happens, you know? It'll be just like it used to James, you'll see, just like it used to…"

"Sirius…"

"You think I don't mean it? I do." Sirius shot James an almost challenging look. "Lily's…Lily's gone and if I have my way I'll send Peter straight to hell, but we've still got us three and Harry too, and…and that's enough, isn't it? It's enough. It is. You'll see."

James relented with a barely audible sigh. "We're all alive, that's enough for me."

They'd reached the bottom of a long, winding staircase – Sirius glanced sideways at James. "I don't remember this staircase being here…" James shrugged.

"Haven't been here for a while, sorry."

Sirius exhaled sharply. "Wouldn't it be nice to have the map now? I bet you anything Filch still has it locked up in that cabinet, the wretched old bat…right. Looks like this hall dead ends. Up?"

James, already unnaturally pale and slick with sweat, glanced up at the stairway in trepidation. "I…alright."

Sirius, noticing the note of apprehension in James' voice, glanced sideways and gazed at James searchingly. "On second thought…let's keep going. I'm pretty sure this doesn't dead-end, now I remember it."

James cast Sirius a grateful look. "Sure?"

Sirius grinned. "Yeah. C'mon. Are you sure you don't want me to take –"

"I can carry Harry." interrupted James, holding the still sleeping Harry a bit closer to his chest as they continued down the dusky, portrait-lined hall. "He doesn't weigh a thing. The Dursleys better pray I never get to them, the bastards…"

Sirius' face darkened. "I don't know if I'll ever forgive Dumbledore for that. I don't care if they're his family, Moony's more family than them, Moony should've had him after…you know…"

"Or you." added James quietly. There was a steely note in his voice that Sirius had rarely heard there before – he glanced sideways and found James looking at him expectantly.

"I…couldn't." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth. "I would've taken him in a second James, I swear I would've, you _know_ I would've, but…I couldn't."

"_Why?_"

The way James said that, with his hazel eyes boring almost pleadingly into Sirius' and his voice so accusing and bewildered all at once, made Sirius feel as though someone had punched him in the chest. "Because…because I just _couldn't_, alright? I – I messed up horribly and I made a horrible mistake and it's really, really complicated, and…and I'll tell you later, alright? I promise. I promise I will. Really."

"I'm tired of waiting to figure everything out, Sirius. I'm sick of it. I want to know why you weren't there for Harry, and why Remus wasn't either, and why you look like, like…" James broke off, his voice rough and broken as he buried his head in the crook between Harry's neck and shoulder.

"It's not that bad, is it?" asked Sirius after a moment, in a small voice. James snorted.

"You look like hell, Padfoot."

"Mm," grunted Sirius sulkily, casting his eyes over James appraisingly. "You're not one to talk, you know. I think Moony's the best looking out of all of us at the moment." He glanced down thoughtfully at the unconscious werewolf in question. "Who'd have thought?"

"You shouldn't abuse him like this when he's knocked out."

"Aw, I'm not abusing him." Sirius grinned brightly down at Remus, as though to emphasis his point. "I'm giving him a compliment on how devilishly handsome the poor sod is. Even despite the fact that he looks rather emaciated." Sirius frowned, giving Remus a very dirty look. "I'll have to make a point of yelling at him about that when he wakes up."

James raised his head and glanced sideways at Sirius, the smile on his face slowly fading. "Which brings us back to the original –"

"Later." interrupted Sirius, matching James' glare with one of his own. "I promise. It's a long story and Moony needs to hear it too and – are you alright? James? _James!_"

James had suddenly stopped, his face sheet white and his hazel eyes wide behind his dirty and broken wire-rimmed glasses. He was swaying gently back and forth, his mouth open in an "o" of surprise as he glanced up at Sirius through frightened eyes. "S-Sirius…" With that his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he pitched to the floor.

"**_James!_**" Almost without thinking Sirius dropped Remus to the floor and leapt forwards – James had already collapsed by the time he reached him, and with trembling hands Sirius pushed the somehow still-sleeping Harry off of James and pulled his head onto his lap. He could feel bile rising in his throat as scenes of that Halloween night seven years ago played one after in his mind. "Wake up, James, please wake up…" He couldn't lose James now, not right after he'd gotten him back, he couldn't live through that again – "Wake up, Prongs…"

He pressed his hand to James' neck, managing to find James' pulse even despite his badly shaking hands. It was fast, much much faster than Sirius knew it should be, and Sirius choked back a sob. "Don't you dare die on me again," he whispered, unable to break his gaze away from James' face as he smoothed back James' hair from his forehead absently. "I mean it. I haven't had a chance to tell you anything yet, I haven't even told you I'm sorry…"

He felt something wet slide down his cheek and realized, after a moment, that he was crying. "I went to Azkaban," he whispered, his voice cracking as he leaned over to clasp James' hand. "I tried to kill Peter after you and Lily died, and he turned into an animagus before I had a chance to. He faked his death and killed twelve muggles and made it look l did it, and so they sent me to Azkaban. That's where I've been for seven years. That's why I couldn't take care of Harry. And Moony couldn't take care of him because…well, because Dumbledore said Harry needed to grow up with his aunt and uncle. And I guess Moony couldn't really fight him about that because he couldn't take care of Harry by himself, and we were all gone…" He trailed off and managed a watery smile. "I guess it's really not that long a story after all, is it?"

Sirius was so focused on James that he didn't notice as Harry, with a soft moan, opened his eyes and pushed himself to his knees. "Sirius?"

Sirius whipped his head around and stared at Harry with wild eyes, while Harry, still half-asleep, smiled at him sleepily. "Where are we? What's – _Dad!_"

"You're dad's fine." said Sirius quickly, catching Harry in a tight embrace as Harry stumbled towards him. "He's fine, Harry. He's going to be fine. But you need to stay here and watch him for me while I go and get help, okay? You can do that for me, yeah?"

Harry was staring over Sirius' shoulder at James in obvious terror, but when Sirius spoke to him he turned and nodded bravely. "Yes." he whispered, in a small voice. Sirius tightened his grip on Harry for a moment – and then he pulled back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and smiling bracingly at Harry.

"Good. Excellent. Here, we can use Remus' coat for a pillow…perfect. I'll be back in a second Harry, you won't even realize I've gone…" Sirius stood up, squeezing Harry's shoulder briefly before beginning to sprint down the passageway.

_The house was on fire when he landed, parts of it caved in and the front reduced to still-smoldering ash as he vaulted off the motorbike and_ sprinted as fast as he could down the hallway, trying desperately to think past the memories and nightmares that were bombarding his mind. "Second floor," he whispered, more to keep the memories away than anything as he began _to shift aside the still-burning rubble and call out frantically, desperately, waiting for someone to answer even though he already knew, deep in his heart, that they were gone…_

"Second floor." he repeated, louder this time as he skidded around a corner and began to pelt as fast as he could up the nearest staircase. "Second floor, main corridor…," He stumbled and _nearly tripped over something soft lying half-buried under a pile of charred rubble. He looked down instinctively, before he had a chance to think, and stared down as James' glassy hazel eyes glared accusingly back up at him – _

He was running as fast as he could, but seven years in Azkaban had ground years of auror training into little more than half-remembered instincts, and he was slowing down. "Second floor." His legs were aching and it was growing harder to breathe as he hurtled down a new hallway and tried desperately to run faster, faster – "Second floor…"

"Quiet, you!" cried one of the portraits as he hurtled past – he ignored it, too intent on breathing, on running faster, to pay any attention to anything else.

It felt like his body was falling apart, it felt even worse than it had right after Moony's transformation. His head felt as though it was about to split in two, he could barely breathe through the sharp ache in his chest, his legs were trembling almost too badly to hold him up, and as he rounded another corner he could feel something wet drip slowly down his forehead – blood.

He barely noticed as he slowed to a jog, and then a walk, and then finally collapsed all together. The stone floor felt wonderfully cool under his burning skin, and he was just coherent enough to close his eyes before the world fell away in a dizzying whirl of darkness and pain.

**ooooo**

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Sirius opened his eyes cautiously. The pain had receded somewhat, but every movement still ached and the world was little more than a blur of shapes and sound. "Whuzzat?" he muttered thickly, his throat dry and his head pounding as the world slowly shifted back into perspective. Someone was standing over him, gazing at him intently, and as everything finally clicked back into place he gasped.

Albus Dumbledore was standing bent over him, his pale blue eyes regarding Sirius with cold curiosity. Even wrapped in a woolen lilac bathrobe he managed to look menacing – in one hand he was holding a steaming mug of tea, while with his other he held his wand and was slowly leveling it to point straight at Sirius' heart.

"Good evening Mister Black." he said calmly, his tone belied by the cold fury in his eyes. "I can't even begin to tell you how shocked I am to find you here."

"James…"

Dumbledore's face hardened. "An explanation, if you please."

It was hard to think, much less speak. Sirius' head was pounding and the world was still muzzy and blurred by the fever burning inside of him – he didn't bother to move, only closed his eyes and forced himself to tell Dumbledore that _James was dead, his hazel eyes open and frightened and glaring at Sirius, confirming what Sirius already knew, that it was all his fault…_"He's dying."

There was silence for a moment – and then he heard a rustle of fabric and a moment later something cool under his chin. He cracked his eyes open – Dumbledore was kneeling in front of him, his mug of tea on the floor and his wand tucked somewhere out of sight. He was tilting Sirius' chin up and gazing at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Who is dying?"

"James."

"James is dead."

Sirius' breath caught even as he shook his head. This was becoming much too complicated – he was drowning under a maelstrom of thoughts and nightmares and feelings and pain, and with each second that passed it grew harder and harder to tell the truth from the memories. "Was."

"Sirius –"

"_S'not dead now!_" Sirius grabbed Dumbledore's hand, his fevered eyes boring pleadingly into Dumbledore's inscrutable face. "Swear he's not. Harry and Remus an' James, all downstairs, James is dying; have to, have to…" He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of pain. "Can't die." he whispered at last, his voice almost too soft for Dumbledore to hear as he curled in on himself and cracked his eyes open again.

Dumbledore was regarding him with an odd expression on his face. He pushed himself back up onto his feet slowly, all the while staring intently at Sirius as though trying to read his mind. "You're not lying?" he asked at last, his voice strained as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. Sirius shook his head – a look flashed quickly across Dumbledore's face, but Sirius was too tired and too sick to divine what it meant.

"Stay here, then." ordered Dumbledore, his light blue eyes over bright as he glanced almost earnestly down at Sirius. "I'll return shortly." He hesitated a moment, and then added in a rush, "And you can drink the tea, if you must. Undoubtedly you'll feel…better…for it."

And with that he was gone.

Sirius allowed his head to sink back to the floor as his eyes drifted slowly shut. The chaos his mind had been in moments before was now mostly gone, replaced with a sort of overpowering weariness. He could feel the blood still dripping down his forehead and oozing from gashes and cuts all over his body, he could feel the massive bruises coating his sides every time he brushed against the cool, rough stone floor…but it was secondary to the tiredness that was creeping over him like a cloak. Slowly his breathing slowed, and his eyes fluttered as he slipped into unconsciousness and was caught in a dream…

_It was the first night of summer and practically the last week of term – there wasn't a cloud in the midnight black sky, and each and every star in the night sky blazed forth in a display that might have been ostentatious if it hadn't been so perfect. There was hardly a whisper of a breeze, but it was enough to glide in silent ripples across the lake and rustle the trees in the Forbidden Forest. _

_With a sigh he flipped over onto his stomach, his eyes half-closed and a lock of silky black hair falling in front of his face. "Remus?"_

_Remus Lupin, barely seventeen and half-asleep, opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Sirius. "Hmm?" _

_"Do you think we'll still be friends? You know, when we're old and all?"_

_James, his jet black hair even messier than usual and his wire-rimmed glasses smudged with dirt, propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Sirius seriously. "You mean when we leave school?"_

_"No. I mean when we're senile and on the verge of death. We'll still be friends, right?"_

_"What sort of question is that?" asked Peter, at the same time that Remus, with a yawn, said almost scornfully, "Course we will."_

_"Yeah, but how can you know if we really will?" Sirius inched forward and rested his chin on Remus' stomach, his grey eyes flicking almost pleadingly between them. "What if we…I dunno, what if we get in a fight or something or Moony moves to Tibet or –"_

_"Tibet!" interrupted Remus, sounding almost insulted as he pushed Sirius off of him and pulled their only blanket more tightly around himself. "Why on earth would I move to Tibet?"_

_"They have monks in Tibet."_

_"I'm not a monk, Sirius." _

_"Yeah, but…you have wisdom like monks have wisdom. Lots of depth and so forth. And you're missing the point."_

_James sighed. "We'll always be friends, Padfoot. Always." _

_"No, Sirius has a point." Peter sat up, biting his lower lip and looking inexplicably worried. "How do we know if we'll even **survive** to be a hundred, or whatever?"_

_There was silence for a moment. And then Sirius slid closer to Remus and rested his head against the crook between his arm and his chest – James wedged himself between Remus and Peter and slung his arms over both of their shoulders. "That's not going to happen." he said firmly, his voice quiet but strong against the suddenly overwhelmingly vast night. Sirius closed his eyes, a small sad smile tugging at his lips as Remus' breath brushed against his cheek. "I'm not going to let that happen. Right?"_

_"Right." whispered Sirius. Remus echoed him a moment later, and then finally Peter, and the silence returned. _

_Sirius closed his eyes, his cheek warm where it was pressed against Remus' shoulder and the rest of him freezing. "Moony?" he whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost in the gentle night breeze. _

_"Mmm?"_

_"Can we share the blanket?"_

_"Alright." _

_He slid even closer to Remus as Remus obligingly threw half of the scarlet-and-gold blanket over him. "Thanks." he whispered, brushing a strand of black hair out of his face and wrapping the blanket as tightly around himself as he could manage with a contented sigh. "Moony?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Even though you can be a horrible conversationalist and are unhealthily obsessed with Shakespeare –"_

_"Thanks."_

_"– You're still my best mate. Just so you know." _

_"I know." _

_"Good."_

_"What about me?" asked James, sounding rather miffed. Sirius could feel rather than see Remus trying not to smile. _

_"You're my best mate forever, obviously." answered Sirius, cracking his eyes open to grin at James. "And Peter too, before you ask." _

_James, evidently sated, smiled. "Excellent. No matter what happens then, we die barmy old codgers, friends to the death. I say we swear on it." _

_"Alright…" said Peter slowly, the hesitant note in his voice passing unheeded as James whipped out his wand and, with a few mumbled words, transfigured it into a silvery colored knife. _

_"Here, I'll go first." said James, noticing the look on Peter's face. With a quick, rapid motion he sliced the blade against the palm of his right hand – within seconds blood rushed to the surface and stained his hand a deep crimson, and he smiled. "Pads?" _

_Pretending to ignore Remus' wince as James tossed the knife to him, Sirius pulled his hand out from under the blanket and, after a moment's hesitation, drew the knife quickly across the palm of his hand. "Moony?"_

_"No, I'll go." said Peter quickly, reaching across James and Remus to grab the knife from Sirius. He screwed his eyes shut as the cold metal of the knife pressed against his skin, and then with a sharp jagged cut sliced across his palm. _

_"It's not silver, is it?" asked Remus, glancing sideways at James while Peter, with shaking hands, tried to hand him the knife. James shook his head, and, satisfied, Remus accepted the knife from Peter and sliced neatly across his hand without a moment's hesitation. _

_James was the first to lay his hand in the middle – a second later Remus grabbed it, and then Sirius and then, finally, Peter. "Right. I'll say it, shall I?" There were murmurs of agreement and nods from the other three, and he cleared his throat. _

_"On this the night of June…June…June something-or-other, we four Marauders do hereby swear that never, under pain of death, shall we be parted until death." There was slight scuffling noise at this point, quickly ended by Sirius gently elbowing Remus in the stomach. "We will be friends even whilst old age and idiocy claim our wits and our cleverness and our dashing good looks. We will never allow a woman or an argument or Tibet to come between us. We will not die until we're all good and ready to do so. We, the Marauders, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, do swear to this." There was a low murmur as the other three echoed his last sentence, and then a rustle as they drew apart. _

_"Moony?"_

_"**Yes**, Padfoot?" _

_"If by some strange freakish chance I do die, I promise I'll come back. As a ghost, I mean. I'll haunt you and be your ghost friend and entertain small children at parties. 'Kay?" _

_"You're disturbing the solemnity of the moment, you know."_

_"Shut up James. This is why I'm being Moony's conversation piece and not yours." _

_"Ngh. Prat."_

_"Git."_

_"Ponce." _

_"Slimy Slytherin sycophant…"_

_Overhead the stars shone as brightly as ever, the moon invisible behind the trees and the breeze blowing across the lake fading into nothing. Sirius closed his eyes with a sigh – the grass was sharp against his back, the blanket and Remus' shoulder were both warm against his skin, and the whole scene was becoming as distant and surreal as a dream…_

* * *

**A/N - **Hope the memories in the middle of the story weren't terribly confusing. And, as always, hope you liked it :) 

Many thanks to _SeriousSiriusFan_, _sigi_, _Moony'sgirlthroughandthrough_, _Anonymous_, _Genna_, _Rice Stalagtite_, _P_, _:MzPotter:_, _Raisin 3's Rayman_, _maria _(x2), and _asdfjkl;_, the anonymous reviewers. Many many thanks!

Next Update - _(at the moment untitled). _In which recoveries are made, explanations are had, and nothing terrifically bad happens, for a change. Probably not coming for a while, on account of what I'm about to tell you below.

**The Very Important Note About Future Updates** - The next chapter is going to be filled to the brim with recoveries, explanations, and all that wonderful jazz. As a result it is going to be very, very long...probably about as long as the last chapter, or only slightly less. Thus it's going to take a while to write, and even longer because... I'm going to do NaNoWriMo this year. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a writing project where you have the month of November to write a novel. Should be terrific fun, but it does mean that I probably won't write a lick of fanfiction from November first to November thirtieth.

Will the chapter be finished by then? No idea. Probably not, since I'll still be contending with schoolwork and all that sort of fun stuff in the meantime. So, anyways...that's the scoop. Just so you're all aware of what's going on. And this is getting really long now, so...

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it, _PLEASE_ review, and 'til next time...bye!**

**QUICK EDIT - **A lot of people seem to be thinking that this is going to become a slash fic. **IT IS NOT!** The flashback is intended to show that these are four good friends (brothers, even) who are terrified for each other. No more, no less. If you want to read more into it go on ahead, but it is definately not intentionally slash and it will not become slash at any point. Sorry for any confusion on that front! That being said: I hope you liked it!


	23. Pies, Cookies, and Conversations

**A/N -** Do I love you guys, or what? Check it out. The next chapter _already_. This is commendation-worthy. And check out the long-ness! (Am I good, or am I good?)

Right. So, this chapter really wraps just about everything up...not _quite_ everything, but most everything. So that's all good. And, of course, this chapter's dedicated to the lovely _Phantom of a Rose_, whose birthday is (or was) sometime this month. Happy birthday!

And, that's pretty much it on the announcements front, so onto...chapter 23!

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 23 – Pies, Cookies, and Conversations_

_August 13, 1987_

He woke up to a pounding headache and, even more pressing, a very muzzy recollection of the past few days. Sitting up with a groan, he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, closed his eyes and tried vainly to ease his throbbing head, all the while cursing fluidly under his breath.

"– bleeding, fucking mess of a…oh, Merlin, my head…"

"You'll forgive me for saying so, Mr. Potter, but you look like a man sorely in need of a cup of tea."

"…where the hell – **_agh!_**"

With a shriek James Potter tried to back up, realized a moment to late that he couldn't, and with an even louder shriek tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor in a confused tangle of limbs and blankets.

Albus Dumbledore, his light blue eyes sparkling with repressed mischief, smiled benevolently. "I hope I haven't startled you."

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" barked James angrily, clawing his way free of the mass of blankets and staring around as alertly as he could manage with his glasses somewhere on the nightstand behind him. "Where are we?! Er, where am _I_? We…_Harry!_" James jumped to his feet, got tripped up in the blankets, and fell to the floor again.

"Harry's perfectly alright." said Dumbledore soothingly, peering at James over the rim of his half-moon glasses as James struggled to his knees. "As are Sirius and Remus."

"_Where are they?_"

"Unconscious, for the moment. Mr. Black should be up and about any day now…Mr. Lupin is in a rather more serious condition, but give him a week or so and he'll be good as new."

James relaxed visibly. "Right. Excellent. Brilliant. And – wait a second…," Dumbledore waited patiently while James waded through a haphazard muddle of memories. "How'd you…"

"Know you were here?" prompted Dumbledore gently. James nodded warily and reached up to grope on the nightstand for his glasses. "It's really rather simple. I was walking back from the Kitchens with a fresh cup of tea when I bumped into your friend Mr. Black lying unconscious at my feet." He smiled ambivalently. "As I'm sure you can imagine it was quite a shock."

Finally finding his glasses, James rammed them on and stared guardedly at the headmaster. "Okay…okay. Why was Sirius –"

"He believed you were dying." interrupted Dumbledore, beaming at James while his light blue eyes twinkled. James shook his head, partly to dispel the massive headache that was pounding ruthlessly behind his temples and partly out of sheer disbelief.

"He's so _stupid_…"

"He was right." interjected Dumbledore mildly. "According to Madame Pomfrey, another few minutes and you would have died. Again." he added thoughtfully, gazing meditatively upwards at the ceiling while James stared at him in shocked silence. "Apparently your body had taken entirely too much strain and was shutting down." He glanced down again, met James' eyes, and smiled reassuringly. "You're quite well now, of course."

James stared at him for a moment. Finally he said blankly, "I have a headache."

Dumbledore waved his wand, and instantly the headache was gone. Sitting up a bit straighter, James mumbled a "thank you" before dropping his gaze down to one of the blankets lying tangled in his lap.

"I imagine," said Dumbledore gently, after several long, silent moments had passed, "That we have lots of things to discuss. Now, however, is not the time. I'm sure you'll be ready for a nice hot shower and some food, and then back to bed." Dumbledore paused for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "First, however, I believe you have a visitor…"

James' eyes shot up to meet Dumbledore's – the old headmaster put a finger to his lips and turned towards the doors leading out of the Hospital Wing, and James followed his gaze just in time to see one of the doors crack open.

"_DAD!_"

James' eyes barely had time to widen in shock before Harry, his face practically glowing with happiness, hurtled into his arms and sent both of them sprawling backwards into the tangled mass of blankets and sheets.

"I thought you were dead for ages even after Mister Dumbledore told me you weren't because Sirius ran off to get help and you'd fainted and were all cold and everything and it was really, really scary because Remus wouldn't wake up and you wouldn't wake up and I didn't know what to do but then Mister Dumbledore showed up and he brought us all here _by magic_ and it was _wicked_ but I was still scared and then this old lady came up and made me drink this really horrible medicine…," babbled Harry, barely pausing for breath as he wrapped his arms as tightly around James as he could and buried his face against James' neck, "…And it was _horrible_ and then I had to take a bath and Mister Dumbledore let me play with his pet bird but I really only wanted to see you and Remus and Sirius but Mister Dumbledore wouldn't let me –"

James, his face buried in Harry's messy black hair and his arms wrapped around Harry's slender body in a fierce embrace, glanced up. His face was tearstained but his eyes were aglow with happiness – for the briefest of seconds he and Dumbledore's eyes met. Dumbledore nodded almost imperceptibly and smiled, and then swept from the Hospital Wing without a backwards glance, closing the door softly behind him.

**ooooo**

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

"What sort of story?"

Harry shrugged, then giggled as James made a great show of brushing imaginary chocolate crumbs off of his chin. "I don't know. A good one. Can you…can you tell me a story about mum?"

James, midway through unwrapping a chocolate frog, paused. "You don't have to!" added Harry quickly – James smiled at him and carefully set down the half-opened chocolate.

"A story about your mum…" he mused quietly, shifting his arm as Harry snuggled closer to him on the blanket-laden hospital bed. "Where to begin…"

"Was she pretty?"

"Oh, yes. She was beautiful. She had long red hair and lovely green eyes – your eyes, s'matter of fact." James gently tapped Harry's nose, and Harry grinned. "She was perfect, she really was."

"Did she like snakes?"

James stared at Harry for a moment. "Er…not particularly, no…"

"Why not?"

"Well, you know, snakes…they're sort of slithery, aren't they? Your mum didn't really go for that sort of thing, I suppose."

Harry pondered this for a moment. "She liked deer though, right?"

Feeling totally lost now, James fumbled for words. "Er…well, I really don't –"

"She liked you." said Harry, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. James felt slightly offended.

"I'm a _stag_, you know."

Harry gave him a look that clearly meant "_they're the same exact thing_". "Mm. She was a witch, right?"

On surer footing now, James nodded and smiled. "She was a brilliant witch. Absolutely brilliant."

"Better than you?"

"Better than me, and Sirius, and Remus, even."

"Did she like me?"

James glanced down involuntarily – Harry was staring almost pleadingly back up at him, his emerald green eyes wide behind his glasses. His heart aching, James instinctively glanced away from Harry's eyes – Lily's eyes – and instead turned to look out of one of the enormous mullioned windows that dotted the opposite side of the wing. It was sunset now – the sky was bleeding orange and red and gold, and the black trees of the Forbidden Forest were on fire with crimson light.

"She loved you, Harry."

"Really?"

"More than anything else in the world."

"Then why'd she go?"

This was the one question that James had been dreading. Months alone with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him had helped, a little – it no longer hurt quite as fiercely to think of Lily, to remember her back before every new darkness had showed on her beautiful, careworn face, back before they'd been forced into hiding…but it still hurt, it still felt as though his heart was being ripped open all over again, when he remembered how she'd died.

When he remembered that, at least partly, it was his fault.

"She died," said James at last, shifting slightly closer to Harry and resting his cheek carefully against the top of Harry's head, "Because Voldemort killed her." James closed his eyes – Harry remained silent. "We were all of us – me, your mum, Sirius, Remus – we were all young and we didn't really know what to do and we tried our very hardest to stop him, but we made mistakes. And…and those mistakes helped him, a lot. But it was Voldemort that killed her, Harry."

"He killed you, too." added Harry in a whisper.

James gently kissed the top of Harry's head. "Yes."

"But you came back."

"Yes."

"So…so maybe mum can come back, too."

There was such wild hope in Harry's voice that James' didn't think he could bear it. "I wish she could," he murmured at last, not trusting his voice above a whisper as Harry reached up and grabbed his hand. "I wish she could, Harry. But she can't."

"But you could!" insisted Harry, refusing to give up as he glanced up at James. "So she can too!"

James shook his head slowly, kissing Harry's forehead now as the smile slowly slid off of Harry's face. "It's different, Harry. It's all really, really complicated and I don't think anyone but Professor Dumbledore really understands it, but…it's really just a lucky chance that I came back, Harry. That's all."

"And mum –"

"She's gone, Harry." It hurt like hell to say that, but once he had, James realized that the ache had subsided, even if only a little bit. "She's gone." he repeated carefully, and it didn't hurt quite so badly this time. "She's still here, obviously –" He gently tapped Harry's heart and smiled softly, "– But she can't come back."

"Do you miss her?" asked Harry tremulously, his voice barely more than a whisper. James nodded.

"Yes. Always."

"I miss her, too." murmured Harry into James' shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is."

"…'Cos I really didn't even know her and I can't remember her, not even a little bit, no matter how hard I try…"

"That doesn't matter."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Will we see her again someday, do you think?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. Just not for a while." James ruffled Harry's hair and smiled bracingly down at him. "You know what I think we should do now?"

Harry sniffed loudly and gave a watery smile. "What?"

"I think we should finish off these chocolate frogs before Sirius wakes up and eats them all."

Harry laughed weakly and reached over James to grab a handful of the chocolates before curling tightly against James' side. For a few minutes there was a comfortable silence, the only noise the brittle uncrinkling of wrappers. Finally Harry yawned and glanced through drooping eyes up at James. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you came back."

James laughed quietly, grabbing his wand off of the nightstand and muttering a quick "lumos," as the night sky outside grew blacker and blacker. "Me too."

"No, I mean it." Harry, the blankets pulled nearly up to his chin and a sleepy smile on his face, stared up at James seriously. "You're not going to leave again, are you?"

"No."

"Good." Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against James' side – within seconds he was asleep.

Gently plucking a stray chocolate frog from off of Harry's blanket, James smiled and, careful not to wake him, quietly murmured, "Nox." Instantly the light from his wand vanished, and their bed fell into a sort of semi-twilight.

Setting his wand back down on the table, after a moment's hesitation James reached down and carefully pulled off Harry's glasses, setting them down next to his own on the nightstand before closing his eyes. "Goodnight," he murmured – as if in response a gentle breeze blew through the windows and whispered down the hall, and he smiled. Minutes later he too was asleep, and the room was silent once more.

**ooooo**

It was almost pitch black when he opened his eyes. He could hear torches sputtering somewhere a while off, and a faint orangish gleam, coupled with the syrupy moonlight sliding in through the mullioned windows, was the only light in the otherwise black room.

He sat up, wincing as he did so, and was vaguely surprised to find that his forehead and chest were wrapped tightly in bandages. "Hello?" he ventured softly, brushing a strand of black hair behind his ear as, as quietly as he could manage, he swung his feet around to the floor. "Anyone here?"

He waited, but there was no answer, not even the rustle of a breeze against the stone floor. "Hello?" he called again, louder this time. There was a slight scuffling noise, and he glanced up sharply.

"Sirius?"  
The voice was so faint and distant he half-feared, for one wild moment, that he'd imagined it. "James?" he murmured at last, his voice cracking as he got unsteadily to his feet. He wasn't sure which would be worse – if James answered, or if he'd merely imagined him. "James!"

No one answered, and he was about to collapse back onto the bed in defeat when, his voice distant as though it had floated to Sirius from a very long ways away, James called, "Don't move, I'll be right there…"

Sirius sank numbly back down onto the bed, his mind racing incoherently as he instinctively pulled the blankets back over his lap and stared determinably down at his lap. He realized, with a shock, that his hands were trembling.

"Hello, you."

He glanced up sharply, a reply dying unsaid on his lips. James was standing in front of him, his face thrown into dramatic shadow by the light of his lit wand. James looked…_good_. His face had regained some of its former color, his hair – though as untidy as ever – was cut and washed, he had finally found a change of clothes and was dressed in a too-large cream-colored sweater and grey trousers, and his hazel eyes were sparkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He smiled and sat himself down on the edge of Sirius' bed – Sirius, hesitantly, smiled back.

"Hi." he said at last, fiddling embarrassedly with a hole in his blanket as James coughed politely. "Er…so, you look…good…"

"Thanks."

"Welcome. Harry's –"

"– He's fine. He's excellent." said James, a little too quickly. Sirius nodded weakly.

"Good. Brilliant. And Remus…"

"Still asleep. You've been asleep for…" James glanced down at his watch, "…Almost five days now. Apparently, er, you were in pretty bad shape when Dumbledore found you…"

"Yeah," said Sirius, his eyes glazing over slightly. "Yeah, I was. Fancy that."

"…Near death, apparently…"

"Lucky he found me, then."

"Oh, yes. Definitely."

The uncomfortable silence returned.

It was rather discomfiting, but Sirius realized, with a pang, that no matter how much he wracked his brain he couldn't think of a single thing to say. An invisible wall seemed to have arisen between them, with James and Harry and Remus and Dumbledore and everyone on one side and Sirius, all alone, on the other.

"You promised you'd tell me."

Jerked rudely out of his thoughts, Sirius glanced up and met James' questioning gaze. "What?"

"You promised you'd tell me. About…about what happened to you, after I died."

"Oh. Er. I did, yeah. Now?"

James grinned half-heartedly. "It's almost midnight, we're both wide awake, and no one else is around."

"Right. Bad time, I agree."

"Sirius…"

Sirius sighed. "Oh, fine. If you insist." He scooted to the side – James, getting the hint, inched over and sat next to him.

"Well?" he prompted gently, poking Sirius in the side as Sirius, without speaking, continued to stare straight ahead absorbedly. "I died. Halloween. Voldemort kills Lily, tries to kill Harry, can't. What then?"

"Hagrid came." said Sirius absently. "Well, no, I got there first. I went to check on Peter and he wasn't home and I was nervous so I flew the bike to Godric's Hollow. House was destroyed – it was on fire too, I think." He shook his head, trying to sift through the tangled and confused memories. "I found your body first, and then Lily's, and I didn't want to look for Harry's but then he started crying and I found him and I picked him up and, you know, he stopped crying, just like that." Sirius snapped his fingers – James didn't say anything but continued to stare at Sirius in silence, waiting for him to continue. "Hagrid showed up then, and he said something about needing to get Harry to his relatives, Dumbledore's orders, something like that…"

"And you didn't –"

"Well I _couldn't_ fight him, could I?" snapped Sirius, almost angrily. "You and Lily'd just died and Moony was Merlin knows where and I just wanted to find Peter and wring his filthy neck…I couldn't think and I was crying and I was so _angry_, Prongs, I'm sorry but I couldn't, couldn't…I couldn't fight him about it. I'm sorry."

James wrapped his arm bracingly around Sirius' shoulders. "Go on," he urged quietly, after a moment. Sirius nodded, and sniffed loudly.

"Right. So. Where was I?"

"Hagrid came to take Harry away."

"Yeah. So, I gave him the motorbike, because I didn't need it any more, and I set off to find Peter. And I did, and I was going to fight him and kill him but the filthy worthless bastard beat me to it and before I could do anything he turned into a rat and blew up half the street and shouted out to everyone that I killed you and Lily." Sirius paused for a moment. "Not necessarily in that order…"

James snorted. "Then?"

"Well, everyone thought I'd killed him, didn't they? And all the muggles that died too. So they carted me off to the Ministry, and then they sent me to –"

"Trial?" guessed James, his grip around Sirius' shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly. Sirius laughed bitterly.

"Mm. No. They didn't bother to give me one, since, obviously, I was guilty and all. Bastards. No, they sent me to Azkaban." Sirius could feel James freeze, and he felt almost guiltily pleased about it. A second later he crushed that thought, and turned to look at James.

James was staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief, his mouth slightly open and his eyes fixed almost desperately on Sirius. "What –? No, you're joking, they can't have –"

"They did." said Sirius curtly. James flinched, and he softened. "It's not your fault."

"It bloody well is!" exclaimed James loudly, the rage in his voice mixed equally with horror. "How _could_ they, how could Dumbledore –"

"'Cos everyone thought I was the secret keeper."

James looked too horrified to speak.

"We…we didn't tell anyone…" he stammered at last, dropping his gaze away from Sirius and staring instead out of the large mullioned window directly opposite Sirius' bed. "We didn't – we didn't tell _anyone_…"

James looked so guilt stricken that Sirius could feel the first twinges of panic. "It wasn't your fault!" he insisted again, more vehemently this time. "It's Peter's fault and Voldemort's fault and Barty Bloody Crouch's fault but _it's not your fault!_"

"How can you _say_ that?" muttered James, burying his head in his hands. "Seven years, Sirius, seven years and every second –"

"Well maybe if I hadn't been so stupid in the first place and hadn't told you to switch to Peter…"

"Maybe if _I'd_ bothered to tell someone –"

"_Maybe if I'd been an even halfway decent godfather and stayed with Harry like I was supposed to then none of it would have happened!_" exploded Sirius, more angry than anything now as James, his face still buried in his hands, shook his head. "Maybe if Moony'd been around he could've been typically reasonable and all and he would've stopped me from chasing Peter, and maybe if Hagrid had arrived just a minute or two later I would have taken Harry and flown off and to hell with Peter, and maybe if we hadn't been so preoccupied with thinking Moony was the spy we would have seen it was Peter, and none of that matters anyways because it _didn't happen_ James, and it doesn't matter now because this is what we've got and you'll just have to deal with it, whether you like it or not." Sirius glared furiously at James, his gray eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. Finally James raised his head and smiled weakly.

"I'm still sorry."

"You shouldn't be."

"I don't care. I am." His smile grew slightly wider, and he turned to regard Sirius. "Whether _you_ like it or not."

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "Come to that, I –"

"And," continued James, before Sirius had a chance to finish, "Don't you dare say one word about blaming yourself for me dying and Lily dying and Harry being sent off to those horrid muggles because – listen, Sirius! – it was in no way at all or even the tiniest bit your fault. Got that?"

"You're hoarding all the guilt for yourself. That's hardly fair."

"You may recall, Padfoot, that I am the ringleader of our little gang. And as such, it is my sacred right to –"

"Ringleader, hah. All of our most brilliant schemes were mine."

"They were not!"

"They were."

"Not."

"They bloody well were, and you know it! I made Lily fall in love with you, _you may recall_." James pulled a face, but was forced to coincide defeat.

"This is, unfortunately, true."

"Of course it is. Because I am the brilliant one."

"I thought Moony was the brilliant one?"

"Nah. He's too bookish to be brilliant."

"You're too prattish to be brilliant, Black."

"Shove it."

"You shove it."

"Berk."

"Prat."

"Git."

"Ponce.  
"Guilt-Hoarder."

"Moony-Insulter."

"Truce?"

"Truce."

Smiling slightly, James slipped off of the bed and glared down at Sirius with mock-severity. "Now. No guiltiness at all, whatsoever, for forever. I will try my very hardest not to feel that it was in anyway my fault that you got sentenced to that hellhole for seven years, no matter what the facts may say to the contrary." James, his arms crossed and his glasses slightly askew, raised an eyebrow in warning before Sirius could interrupt. "And," he continued, ignoring Sirius' very peeved look, "_You_ are to understand that there is no way in hell any of what happened was your fault. At all. Understood?"

"Fine. Prat."

"Good. Now. I've brought you a gift."

Sirius perked up noticeably. "Candy?"

"What else?" James fished a rather squashed chocolate frog box out of his pocket. "I'm afraid," he said gravely, as he handed it to Sirius with the utmost expression of solemnity, "That it is squished. You have my sympathies."

"Are they as good as they used to be?" asked Sirius wistfully, pausing halfway through ripping open the package. James grinned.

"Better."

Sirius laughed. "Right, well, good then. Now we've had our hopelessly maudlin reunion, where are you off to?"

"Back down there," said James with a yawn, jerking his head to the side. "Harry and I share a bed." Sirius, his mouth stuffed full of chocolate frog, raised one eyebrow in question – James looked rather defensive. "He has nightmares. And…oh, alright, I'm _lonely_ without you dashing around creating an enormous mess for me to fix. I _missed_ you. There, I said it."

Sirius pumped his fist in the air energetically and let out a loud "Hah!" of triumph, spraying chocolate crumbs all over the blanket. James winced.

"Right. I'm off. Goodnight. And – I _know_ he's seven Sirius, he's still young enough to sleep in bed with his dad, just 'cause you had such a morbid childhood…right, you're welcome…Goodnight…Nox." The light from his wand blinked out, plunging them both suddenly into the semi-darkness that had wreathed the hall earlier.

Sirius waited until he heard James' soft, careful footsteps fade into the distance – and then he closed his eyes, settling back with a sigh and a contented smile. The chocolate frog was now little more than a happy memory, James and Harry were both comfortingly nearby, and he was growing steadily drowsier…

A few moments later the hall rang with soft, gentle sounds of him snoring, while the darkness fell over him like a blanket and the moon, oblivious, shone on.

**ooooo**

"This is a stupid idea."

"It's not. Calm down."

"It is! He's not…okay, well, yeah, he'll probably believe me, but he doesn't need me to tell him anything because he'll have figured it all out by now and, and…and I don't _want_ to talk about it!"

James sighed and patted Sirius wearily on the head. It was a mark of how distressed Sirius was that he didn't instantly reach up to bat James' hand away. "You told me the whole story."

"You're you. He's Dumbledore."

"And?"

"Oh, you know what I mean." Sirius picked agitatedly at one of the white linen bandages wrapped around his forearm. "And it was hard enough telling you, besides. About seeing you dead and Peter blowing up all those muggles and, and all…" He broke off with a frustrated growl. "Why can't you just tell him, if you're so bloody keen on it."

"Because," said James, a note of impatience creeping into his voice no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, "I can only tell him half of it."

"You sound like Moony."

James had the sudden urge to scream. "Just _tell_ him, alright? I don't care how bloody uncomfortable it makes you, you're a wanted fugitive and he needs to know why, exactly, you're innocent."

"Because I didn't do anything, that's why."

"_Sirius!_"

"Fine, fine. I'll tell him all about how Wormtail did everything and all. Happy?"

James exhaled slowly. "Yes. Thank you." James got to his feet and stretched – Sirius still hunched cross-legged on the bed, glared glumly up at him.

"Where's Harry?" he asked, after a moment. James blinked.

"Er…kitchens, I think. Yes. The house elves are watching him." Sirius snorted disdainfully, and James frowned. "Not all house elves are as homicidal as yours was, Padfoot."

"They're wretched, most of 'em." said Sirius, ignoring James as he fell backwards and stared despondently up at the ceiling. "Not that you can really blame them, but still. Ones here are alright, I suppose, but Kreacher was nasty. Serve him right if he'd dead now."

James didn't bother to answer.

"I wonder if my old mum's still alive, come to that." continued Sirius thoughtfully, either not noticing or ignoring James' silence as his eyes darkened. "Nasty old bitch. I bet you anything she and Kreacher are both cooped up in that wretched prison of a house still. Regulus…wonder what happened to him. As much of a berk as he ever was, I'd imagine."

"What does this have to do with –"

"I'm just…think how much we missed. How much we've got to catch up on, I mean. I never really thought of it before now. It…it's scary."

James sighed and was about to reply when the door to the Hospital Wing creaked open. Albus Dumbledore, his face serious but his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon glasses, poked his head through the door and smiled brightly. "Morning, gentlemen."

As one Sirius and James' heads swiveled towards the door. "Morning." they chorused – Sirius under his breath, and James with a touch of asperity in his voice. Dumbledore, his smile widening, stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a gentle snap.

"I've just been having a little chat with Severus." he said pleasantly, strolling towards them. James sank back down onto the bed next to Sirius – Dumbledore took out his wand and drew a vague, squiggly symbol in the air. An instant later a plush, comfortable-looking flowered armchair sprang up next to the bed. "It's only an hour ago that he managed to return here from wherever it is you've all been."

"Malfoy Manor." said James, smiling wearily at Dumbledore as the old headmaster sank into his armchair. Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Hmm. Yes. That…makes quite a lot of sense." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "But more on that later – for now, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, I'm wholly and indefatigably interested in your story." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he glanced between them and smiled slightly. "So, whenever you'd care to begin…"

James cleared his throat and stared pointedly at Sirius. Sirius continued to stare determinably ahead – with a defeated sigh and a final glare at Sirius James turned to look at Dumbledore and began.

"So. After you told us that Voldemort was coming after us – me and Lily, I mean – you also said that we should do the Fidelius charm, and we picked Sirius to be secret keeper. Only, Sirius figured it would be too obvious, that Voldemort would just assume that he would be secret keeper, and he suggested we switch to Peter." James glanced sideways at Sirius – Sirius was still staring mulishly ahead but his hands were trembling slightly, and on an impulse James wrapped his arm around Sirius' shoulders. "And I thought it was a good plan, too. So we switched."

"Why not Remus?" interjected Dumbledore, his voice neither accusing nor understanding, but rather almost intensely curious. James smiled humorlessly.

"We – we thought Moony – Remus – was the spy. And don't ask why," he added almost challengingly, as Dumbledore began to open his mouth. "'Cos we need to tell Remus, first." Dumbledore closed his mouth, and nodded.

"I understand." he said gravely. James nodded also, and after a moment's pause continued.

"Well…we switched. And it turns out Peter was the spy we'd been looking for all along. And…he told Voldemort everything. And then Voldemort came and killed Lily and me, and somehow he couldn't kill Harry and…" James trailed off, and turned to face Sirius. "And that's all I know." he finished, softly.

There was silence for a moment. Finally Sirius, his face even paler than usual, turned and regarded James and Dumbledore through haunted grey eyes. "And I chased after Peter," he said woodenly, dropping his gaze to the floor as Dumbledore fixed his intense blue-eyed gaze solely on him. "And when I got to him he shouted out to a whole street of people that I'd killed Lily and James, and then he blew up the street with his wand behind his back and changed into a rat and everyone thought I'd done it. And – that's it, mostly."

Dumbledore stared blankly at him. "A…rat?"

"Er…yes." answered James, smiling weakly. "We're – we can tell him Sirius, stuff it – animagi. Me and Peter and Sirius. Peter's a rat."

Dumbledore blinked. "Animagi."

"Yeah. I mean yes. Since fifth year." Sirius snorted – James shot him a glare. "We did it because – shut up, Sirius! – we wanted to help Moony. I mean, he was tearing himself apart every full moon and he was going to kill himself if he kept at it, it was really only a matter of time and so I started looking into stuff and – well, werewolves aren't really dangerous to animals, so it was perfect."

"Fifth year." repeated Dumbledore, staring over the rim of his glasses at James in astonishment. James shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah. We might've finished it earlier only it took Sirius a while to get the hang of it. We could stay with him during the full moon and it helped, it really did. He was more…_human_, I guess."

"We didn't register," added Sirius, glancing challengingly up at Dumbledore and shrugging James' arm off of his shoulder, "Because someone would've asked why we did it and we couldn't have told them about Remus."

"Quite understandable." said Dumbledore, his voice caught between incredulity and laughter. "What, may I ask, are you?"

Sirius stared at him for a moment – finally comprehension dawned across his face. "Oh! Right. A dog. He's a stag." he added, nodding towards James and earning himself another peeved look. "Bloody great deer."

"I'm _not_ –"

"Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Yes you – what?"

"Demonstrate." repeated Dumbledore patiently, glancing between them with an almost eager look. "Transform, rather. If you don't mind."

"Er…" said Sirius blankly, while James, rolling his eyes, got to his feet and stretched exaggeratedly. There was a small _pop_, and a second later a large, majestic-looking stag was standing in the center of the floor, regarding Sirius and Dumbledore with pensive, liquidy eyes. Dumbledore, looking absolutely delighted, patted Prongs on the head while fixing Sirius with a brilliant smile.

"Anyone," he said slowly, his eyes dancing and his entire face glowing as Prongs took a step closer to him and closed his eyes, "Brave enough to become an animagus at age fifteen, and loyal enough to do it for a friend, and clever enough to successfully keep it a secret, is a good man by me." He stood up, brushing his robes off and stepping backwards politely as James changed back. "I am afraid, Sirius, that without Peter to testify on your account it will be…difficult…to convince the Ministry of your innocence. Regardless, I will do my utmost to clear your name."

"Thanks," muttered Sirius, coloring slightly as Dumbledore tucked his wand into his pocket and turned slightly to beam beneficently at James.

"I'll be in my office mulling things over, should either of you need me. Feel free to drop by." And with that and a final cheery wave of his hand he spun around and strode out of the Hospital Wing, closing the door behind him.

"Well," said James at last, trying his very hardest not to grin as Sirius stared determinably ahead and refused to meet his eyes, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Shut up."

"Wasn't so much to tell, now I think of it."

"Shut up."

"I mean, you were really panicking about it and it turns out…" Noticing the look on Sirius' face, James wisely trailed off and coughed, politely. "Well. Anyways. Race you to the kitchens?"

**ooooo**

"No, you know what? Caramel trumps chocolate any day, easy."

"Nah. Not true. Definitely not. There's no such thing as caramel pie, for starters."

"You can put caramel on pie."

"But there's no such thing as strictly caramel pie, that's what I'm saying. It doesn't exist. Anywhere. Your point is moot. You have –" And here he brandished his fork at James and fixed him with his sternest glare, "– A moot point."

"I'm not saying I don't like chocolate," said James defensively, helping himself to another slice of the enormous French silk pie that they'd stolen from the kitchen half an hour ago. "I'm just saying that caramel's better, that's all. Chocolate's too…ordinary. And anyways you only like it because all of the candy you used to steal from Moony was chocolate."

"Do not!"

"S'true, and you know it." He grinned at Sirius' glowering look. "Aw, come on. It's not like Moony minded, anyways."

Sirius sighed ruefully. "He should've complained more, that was his problem. Never complained about _anything_."

"Yeah, well, that's opposed to you, who complained too much."

"What? What did I ever complain about?"

"_Everything_. I mean, you used to complain about girls all the time, right? And then poor Moony never even had a girlfriend 'til sixth year. And you complained about getting homework when you didn't do most of it anyways. And if you got a point or two off on a test you whined about it for weeks, when in Potions, say, Moony was lucky to get by passing. You were an ungrateful sod, is all."

"Granted, but still. Moony could've complained if he'd liked, but he didn't. He should've. Then we'd have known if he minded the chocolate stealing or not."

James rolled his eyes but didn't bother to reply. Finally Sirius cleared his throat.

"You don't think he minds that we're getting crumbs all over his bed, do you?"

James shook his head vehemently. "What are friends for, Padfoot, if not to eat chocolate pie on their comatose friend's bed?"

"That's my point, though. He's sort of not awake at the moment. So what happens when he wakes up and finds little bits of chocolate pie all over his sheets? He won't be happy."

"This is a brotherly bonding session, Padfoot. We can't exclude him. He's here in spirit."

Sirius sighed, and patted the only part of Remus that he could reach – his foot – consolingly. "Poor devil. Imagine only getting to eat such a fantastic pie spiritually." There was a moment of respectful silence, broken by Sirius coughing politely. "So. How much pie's left, again?"

"Enough for me, I hope."

Sirius and James spun around so fast their necks cricked. Remus, his face drawn and haggard but a groggy smile on his face, was pushing himself slowly up on his elbows and glancing between them with drowsy amber eyes. "Now, really," he chided, his voice tired but relaxed as James and Sirius gaped at him, "Did you really expect to eat chocolate pie at the end of my bed and not share any with me?"

"Well," said Sirius, floundering slightly while James' face slowly broke into a grin, "You were sort of…out of it. Not that that's any excuse, mind, but…well. We _were_ sharing it with you spiritually."

Remus snorted. He was sitting up fully now, his light brown hair falling in tangled strands around his face and the dark circles under his eyes at least partially erased by the soft late afternoon sunlight. "Well. That's alright, then. I suppose if I'm to ask for my own pie I've got to ask for a hug, as well?"

He'd barely finished speaking before Sirius and, a second later, James leapt forward and engulfed him in an enormous bear hug. "Ouch…watch it, Sirius…"

"How long have you been awake?" demanded Sirius, pulling back obediently. He was grinning ear-to-ear – Remus rolled his eyes but, unable to help himself, smiled back.

"Since 'brotherly bonding session', I think." There was a brief moment of awkward silence, during which James pulled back and Remus fiddled awkwardly with the sheets. Sirius was staring determinably down at his lap and biting his lower lip while James glanced expectantly between them – finally Sirius looked up and burst out, "I'm sorry!", at the same moment that Remus blurted out, "Listen, Sirius…". They stared at each other sheepishly, until finally Sirius smiled hesitantly.

"I'm sorry." he repeated, his eyes fixed intently and almost desperately on Remus as Remus, slowly, smiled back.

"I rather think I'm the one that should be saying that to you." he said softly, the faintest trace of guilt in his voice as Sirius' face broke into a wide, relieved grin. "I'm sorry, Padfoot." There was a moment of silence – finally James cleared his throat, and grinned as both of them turned to look at him.

"Pie, anyone?"

**ooooo**

It was a cloudy day and was quickly turning into a cloudy night. The setting sun was almost hidden behind a wall of clouds dyed orange and red and gold, and the lake was steely gray at one end and a muted palette of orange at the other.

It was also windy, a brisk western wind that chopped across the surface of the lake and ruffled Remus' hair where he sat, cross-legged, on the shore.

"Hullo, Remus."

Startled out of his thoughts, Remus began to rip out his wand and spin around – a second later he realized who the voice belonged to, and he stopped dead.

There was a moment of silence. Then – "Hello, Harry."

He turned around, and attempted to smile. Harry, his hair windswept and the tip of his nose pink from the cold, was standing less than three feet away from him, smiling hesitantly and holding an enormous plate of cookies in front of him. "Hi. Hello. Sirius is taking a bath and Dad is talking to Mister Dumbledore, so I was all on my own and I went down to the kitchens and talked to the house elves and they gave me these so I thought I should find you and share them because I don't think I'd be able to eat them all on my own, really."

Remus laughed weakly. "That's…a lot of cookies, Harry. I don't know if I'll be able to eat all those."

"You didn't eat breakfast with us." said Harry quietly. The smile faded off of Remus' face. "Or lunch. Or dinner."

"Well, I –"

"It's okay!" added Harry, a bit too quickly. His entire face was flushed now, and his hands, still holding the platter of cookies, were trembling slightly. "It's okay. Really. I get it."

"No, you don't."

"I-I, I just…I'm _sorry_, I wasn't, I didn't mean –"

"That's not what – oh, bugger it. Sit down."

Harry looked as though he was on the verge of sprinting back to the castle – Remus smiled reassuringly, and patted the damp ground beside him. "Sit. Please."

Harry sat down warily, setting the plate of cookies down carefully beside him and circumspectly avoiding Remus' eyes. "I didn't mean to bother you." he said softly, staring down at his lap and flinching slightly when Remus laid his hand on his shoulder. Remus winced.

"No, it's…it's not that, Harry. I've just – I haven't been avoiding you. Or trying to, anyways. Your dad and Sirius…" He trailed off, and sighed. "This could take awhile."

Harry didn't say anything, but after a moment he reached over and handed Remus one of the slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies piled onto the plate. Remus fought back the sudden urge to laugh, and accepted the cookie gravely.

"The thing is…your dad died when you were a still a baby. And Sirius…he sort of left, right after that. And so I haven't seen either of them for six years and it…it complicates things. They're just…we're all different than we used to be. Sirius because he left, and your Dad because he's been gone and he was in that dungeon for months alone, and me because…because I've had to go on without them. And the night that Voldemort killed your dad and mum and Sirius disappeared was – it was the worst night of my life and I've been having to try and get over it ever since. And then suddenly they're back again and I honestly don't know what to do, Harry. It's awkward and strange and I really, really don't know what to do."

He didn't realize he'd buried his head in his hands until Harry leaned over and gently peeled one of his hands away from his face. "You're not mad at me?" he asked softly, staring down at Remus' hand as Remus exhaled and looked up.

"No. Never."

"But…you're mad at Sirius? And my dad?"

"No! That's not what I mean…We were best friends at school, Harry; your dad and Sirius were like brothers to me but…It's hard knowing where we stand, now. That's all. And Prongs – your dad, I mean – and Sirius have just gone right back to being like they always were, which is fine but I…I can't do that. I've tried but we're different people now and…and that's why everything's been so awkward lately. I'm sorry."

There was silence as Harry considered this. "You could just tell them."

"What?"

"Just tell them. Just like now. Or I could, if you want."

"No! No. Thanks but…I'll tell them, Harry. I will. I promise."

Harry seemed convinced. "Good. Because I missed you. And I think maybe Sirius and my dad miss you too, but they haven't said anything so I don't really know for sure. But I think they do. And even Madame Pomfrey is worried about you because when I was leaving to find you she told me to tell you that you have to get back to the Hospital Wing really soon or else…or else…something. She'll be mad. So you probably should. And – Remus?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think you have to worry that much. About Dad and Sirius, I mean. 'Cos, you know, I think they missed you as much as you missed them. And not just now but for all six years. And you really aren't as different as you think because Sirius and my dad have been telling me stories about when you were all in school and you all seem exactly the same now as you were then, only maybe a bit better. So you really shouldn't worry. Okay?"

Remus laughed weakly, and, ignoring the bandages running up and down his side, pulled Harry into a hug.

"Okay."

**ooooo**

"Sequestering yourself in the library already? For shame, Moony."

Remus yelped and jumped to his feet, nearly sending his chair crashing to the ground as he stared wildly around – James was standing behind him, leaning against a bookshelf and regarding him with tired but amused eyes. "You – what – what are you doing here?"

"Doing Madam Pomfrey's dirty work, apparently. You do realize that you're under Hospital Wing arrest for another two days now? After she caught you out by the lake for two hours the other day she's been in a foul mood, she's liable to kill you when you make your grand return…I was looking for you there, and as soon as I realized you'd gone I knew 'aha, library!' – which, of course, is where you were. Are. And that is why I am here."

"Oh. Er. You can sit down if you like…Remus shoved a pile of books off of a nearby chair, and James flipped it around and sank down, resting his arms on the back with a sigh.

"So, Professor Moony – what fantastically interesting things are you researching this time?"

"Nothing," said Remus, a bit too quickly. James raised an eyebrow, and he hastened to add, "Nothing important, anyway. Not now. So – why'd you want to find me?"

"Hmph. Well. Since you must know…it's a funny thing, but I've been getting the distinct feeling that ever since we arrived here you've been avoiding me." He paused, but Remus didn't say anything. "And Padfoot too. And I hadn't the faintest idea why, so I started thinking about it and then BAM, it hit me, just like that." He drew in a deep breath – Remus was frozen to his seat, and couldn't do more than stare at James in shock.

"We thought you were the spy."

James said all of this in a rush, his face flushing bright red as he stared down at his hands and missed the look of bewilderment on Remus' face. "We…we were stupid and horrible and just complete, complete _idiots_ and we thought you were the spy, you were always gone and you didn't want to do anything together anymore and you hadn't even spoken to Peter in about a month and we thought…We thought it was you. And it was really our fault because we were ignoring you even more than you were ignoring us, and I can't even remember the last time we'd all spent the moon together, and we were so horrible and I'm sorry, Moony, I'm _sorry_…"

Remus cleared his throat. "Er…"

"And remember we were going to use Padfoot for the secret keeper but then he thought – _we_ thought – it would fool Voldemort if we used Peter instead and so we did and it turns out he was the spy, and we should've known it was him because he was always gone on 'work' but none of us even knew what he supposedly did and he was in the Order but he never did anything, but obviously he did but it wasn't…he was always skulking around and…hell, Moony, you know what I mean. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry and you have every right to be bloody furious with me and even with Padfoot but I can't keep going on like this."

"Like what?" asked Remus, momentarily sidetracked. James shrugged helplessly.

"Like we're not even friends. We can't even talk, everything's suddenly awkward and it's like we're suddenly strangers and Sirius isn't going to say anything but one of us had to and…I just want us to be like we used to be, Moony. Back when we were all the best friends in the world. I'd give anything to be like that again."

Remus had a sudden, insane urge to cry. "Sap."

James exhaled noisily, and smiled in relief. "Shove it. And…I really am sorry, Moony. We were young and stupid and we didn't…I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"So am I."

There was a moment of awkward silence – finally James cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Right. Well. When I left Padfoot he was scouring the castle for blankets, so I should probably go and make sure he hasn't 'accidentally' set fire to the dungeons yet or anything…"

James was halfway to the door before Remus called out, "Wait!" He turned around – Remus had stood up, his face pale but an abashed smile spreading slowly across his face. "Thanks." he said softly – James grinned and saluted jauntily before continuing towards the door, and before the door closed entirely behind him Remus could swear he heard him whistling.

**ooooo**

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, and almost all the lights in the hospital wing were extinguished. All but one, in fact; a faint white gleam tucked away in the farthest corner of the hall and almost buried beneath a jumbled mass of curtains and blankets.

"I don't think I've made a tent since…since third year, right?" Sirius scratched at the bandages still wrapped around his arm absentmindedly. "Yeah. Not that this wasn't a brilliant idea, mind, but it's just…odd."

"It's one of your better ideas, I must say." murmured Remus drowsily, one arm wrapped around a sleeping Harry's shoulders and his other hand twirling his lit wand idly. "This is…comfortable. And convenient."

"I don't know if I want to ask what you mean." yawned James, fully sprawled out on one of the three beds they'd pulled together.

"Ask anyways."

"Mm. Fine. Pray tell what you can possibly mean?"

"I think that, us being all together and in a complacent stupor, this is the perfect time for Sirius' story." Sirius looked startled.

"What? What story?"  
"What happened after Abaddon took James and I away." said Remus patiently, shifting slightly as Harry mumbled something in his sleep and draped his arm over Remus' stomach. "How you and Harry got out of the dungeons."

"Oh. That. S'not terribly interesting."

"Humor me."

James laughed and slid closer to Remus and Harry. "Come on, Sirius. Tell all."

Sirius' eyes gleamed. "No."

James groaned and leaned over Remus to gently swat Sirius' head. "You prat. Now you're just doing it to be, to be…"

"Stubborn."

"Yeah, that. You're just trying to be a stubborn git."

"Still not telling."

"How 'bout…how about if you tell your horribly boring story that we really don't care that much about anyways, I'll tell what happened after I, you know, woke up."

"What, from being dead and all?"

"What else would I be talking about, you –"

"It's amazing," said Remus meditatively, staring up at the ceiling and not speaking to anyone in particular, "That even after being dead or incarcerated for six years you still instantly revert to acting like you're fifteen again." Sirius groaned.

"You're sounding like Snape now…"

"What's this about Snape?" asked James, sounding genuinely interested as he lowered the pillow he'd been about to throw at Sirius. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Let's just say we settled some scores, and leave it at that." said Sirius, sounding rather uncomfortable as he stared down at his hands and refused to meet James' eyes.

"What, you beat him up? Come on now, Padfoot, I'm sure he didn't –"

"Er…not as such, no." Sirius was flushing now. "He…well, you know that whole thing, the Willow and all, back in sixth year, all that…" James nodded slowly – he was staring intently at Sirius, while Remus, who appeared to see where this was going, was beginning to grin. "Well. You saved his life – not that he deserved it, mind – and apparently it'd been, you know, _preying_ on his mind these past few years…and, well…To make a long story short…"

"He returned the favor." finished Remus, trying very hard not to laugh at the look on Sirius' face. "You could've just _said_ he saved you…"

"Well, you know, I'd have found my way out eventually." said Sirius sulkily, flipping over onto his back and still refusing to meet James' eyes. "He just sort of…sped things up. A bit. And anyways he's a Death Eater! He shouldn't have, you know…"

"He switched sides." interrupted Remus, studiously avoiding Sirius' gaze and managing not to smile as Sirius spluttered incoherently. "He's sort of…double-crossing everyone, all in one go. But apparently he's definitely on our side. And – oh come _on_, Sirius, you must've known…"

"I did not! And I refuse to be accomplices with _him_."

"Pretension, thy name is Sirius." yawned James, with a smile. "Just because you're on the same side as him doesn't make you accomplices."

"It does! It does."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sirius…"

"You want the story? Here it is. He came in after that nutter left with you two, he took Harry and me to some secret passageway or other, eventually it led out, and I left Harry with Draco – Narcissa's son – and went to find you lot, Harry and Draco came looking for us…and that's it, yeah?"

"Secret passageway?" prompted Remus. Sirius groaned.

"Yeah. Secret passageway. With deathtraps and such. Which we would have avoided even if he hadn't been there, mind. Slimy git."

"Could you be any more vague, possibly?" Sirius leaned over and chucked a pillow at James' head.

"Listen. That's what happened. That's it. If you're waiting for any grand heroics on Snivellus' part, you're out of luck. It was just a bunch of connected rooms leading out. You want to know what was in each one, yeah? Here it is. First one made me paranoid. That went on for a while…then a bunch of nothing…then a tunnel I fell asleep in, and I had a nightmare that almost killed me. Apparently all these things were only happening to me because Snape gave me some potion or other which…er…healed me, mostly, but made me more…"

"Susceptible?" suggested Remus. Sirius nodded.

"Yeah. That. Susceptible to everything. And anyways, after that ended we kept going, came to a passageway where a bunch of water almost crashed on us, and fortunately I very cleverly managed to save us just in the nick of time. As usual. And then…can't remember. That was mostly it, I think. We got out. And Snape ran off to play with his little Death Eater friends. I found another secret passage, it led up to Draco's room, left Harry there, ingeniously found my way back to the dungeons and you lot…and now your turn."

"What, that's it?"

"That's it. Your turn. Tell all. What's it like, being dead?"

"Just brilliant. Absolutely spiffing. You should try it some time."

"You did promise, James." interjected Remus, reaching over and grabbing Sirius' wrist before Sirius could throw the pillow he'd been reaching for at James' head. "And Sirius did try his best to tell his story."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at James from behind Remus' back – James rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. Really? I don't remember. There you go. One minute I'm fighting Voldemort and all I can see is this green light shooting towards me – the next I open my eyes and…" He trailed off, and swallowed. "I wake up."

The air around him had suddenly grown almost suffocating – he almost jumped when Remus reached over and gently touched his shoulder. "In a coffin." said Remus, softly. He nodded.

"Yeah. Er. Yes." He cleared his throat. "It was…pretty horrible, really. And I was mostly out of it at the time, so I can't remember that well…but I guess I sort of accidentally made it explode. The coffin, I mean. And then – d'you remember our neighbors? Those old muggles? The Boyles. Tom Boyle found me. Him and two others."

There was silence for a moment. Then Remus sighed, and smiled wearily at James. "I'm sorry." he said, softly. James frowned.

"What for?"

"It's just…that should've been us. That found you. You wouldn't have known about Harry still being alive, or about Voldemort being defeated, or Sirius going to Azkaban, about Peter…none of it. We should've been there. Or I should've, at least."

James snorted dismissively. "Oh, come on. When was the last time you visited Godric's Hollow since I died? Right. Exactly. And anyways the Boyles were excellent, they didn't even mind the fact that I was supposed to be dead. Really. So there."

Sirius yawned. "Right. So that's all explained then, and Moony's guiltiness is successfully repressed…so how'd Voldemort get to you, that's what I want to know."

"He attacked the house. Killed everyone. Captured me."

"'Killed…?'"

"Yes, Sirius, killed. Everyone. All of them. Every single one. And before you ask he found me because one of Tom's friends used to be a spy for him, and somehow he managed to contact him again and told him, and it was still all my fault so just…Can we just move on, please?"

Remus caught Sirius' eye before Sirius had a chance to reply and silenced him with a look. "Alright. Time to sleep, then?"

"Yeah. Sleep. Sounds brilliant." said Sirius quickly, brushing a strand of black hair out of his eyes and yawning. "Right. Just…right. Sleep. Excellent."

James snorted. "Padfoot…"

"What? I'm tired. I can be tired. And Moony's tired too, look, he's already asleep…"

"I'm not, actually."

"Yes you are. Be quiet. You know what this reminds me of?"

"Mm. No."

"When we used to sleep outside, back when we were all at school. We did that every year, remember? Only now we're not outside. But other than that, yeah?"

James and Remus exchanged a look. "Er…I guess…"

"No, really! I had a dream about this. About that time we promised we'd all be friends when we're old and ugly and insane. C'mon, you can't have forgotten about that…"

"That was…that was right before break, right?" asked James slowly, his face screwed up in concentration. "When we swore –"

"Yes! I _knew_ you couldn't have forgotten about it." Sirius rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and leaned over Remus, extending his hand palm-up for James' inspection. "Classic night of Marauding genius, that."

James winced slightly as he ran his thumb over the raised scar on Sirius' palm. "That hurt, as I recall."

"Only a bit. And anyways it was your idea."

"Well, yes, but still."

"Aw, come on. You've got one too, look." Before James could stop him Sirius grabbed his hand and flipped it over. Even Remus leaned forward interestedly, while James looked studiously away and Sirius laughed. A thin white scar ran down the length of James' palm, starting at his thumb and disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. "Hah."

"Fine, you win." said James, pretending to sulk as he pulled away from Sirius and tugged his blankets up to his chin. "The vow stands. 'Til death do us part, and all that. Can we sleep now?"

"Not…quite yet." said Remus slowly, shifting Harry gently to the side as he sat up and laid his hand, palm-up, on his lap. "I say we renew it."

"What?"

"Say it again. Vow again that we'll stick together until we're all old and ready to die."

Even Sirius looked surprised. "Er…okay…I can't remember how it went, though –"

"I can." said Remus softly – Sirius exchanged a look with James, who shrugged and leaned over to grasp Remus' hand. After a moment's hesitation Sirius did the same, and Remus closed his eyes and began.

"On this the night of August twenty-eighth, we three Marauders do hereby swear that never, under pain of death, shall we be parted…" He broke off for a moment, and smiled, "Shall we be parted until death. We will be friends even whilst old age and idiocy claim our wits and our cleverness and our dashing good looks. We will never allow a woman or an argument or…or Tibet, even…to come between us. We will not die until we're all good and ready to do so. We, the Marauders, Messrs. Moony –"

"And Padfoot!"

"And Prongs."

"– do swear to this." He paused for a moment, and opened his eyes. James and Sirius were both watching him expectantly, and he smiled. "For good, this time."

* * *

**A/N - **Isn't that sweet? I know, excessive fluff, but still...nothing wrong with a little bit of fluff every now and again, right? Right. 

A thousand thank-you's to _Genna_ (Snape didn't have a chance to get back to Dumbledore until a few days after Sirius and co. reached Hogwarts), _P_, _Crystal Cat-chan_, _raymond_ (on the off chance you read this - partly for character development, but mostly because I felt like it :-) ), _maria_, _sigi_, _Moony'sgirlthroughandthrough_ (x4), and last (but by no means least!) _Kat_ (I didn't know that about Thewlis! As soon as I read that though I just started laughing...how great is that? Unintentional irony, gotta love it...), the anonymous reviewers. Much love to you all!

Next Update - _(at the moment untitled)._ In which everything that hasn't yet been explained is, at last, explained, Dumbledore is typically ambiguous, and Sirius kicks James ass in chess. Coming (hopefully!) in time for the holidays.

Right. I think that's pretty much it, for once. Again - Nanowrimo will mean little to no fanfiction writing during November, and December's always the most hectic month of the year...so hopefully the chapter will be out around Christmas time, but there's a very good chance you won't get the (second to last!) update until January. Sorry, but there's life for you.

**Right. So, with that - thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, please PLEASE review and...adieu!**


	24. Matters of Predetermined Circumstance

**A/N** - Hey! Thank you so much to everyone who wished me luck on NaNoWriMo - it was a resounding success, with the final wordcount at 54,316 (183 pages). So that was brilliant fun, and also very helpful as it helped fix my problem of chronic slow writing-ness. Look! A chapter (albeit a much shorter one than the last...) up, and WAY before Christmas. Yep. It's great.

This chapter sort of...hopefully wraps everything up. I think (if I missed something then PLEASE let me know!). So...hope you like it!

And now...chapter 24!

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 24 – Matters of Predetermined Circumstance _

_August 30, 1987_

"Checkmate."

"What?! That's not checkmate; look, I can still move here…"

"…And then, of course, this very conveniently placed pawn can – oh. Damn."

Sirius laughed blithely, moving his black queen two spaces diagonally with a flourish and grinning at the sour look on James' face. "Tsk tsk, Potter. Thinking you could beat me at a game of cleverness, hah…"

James, thoughtfully, kicked him, while Remus, moments ago wholly absorbed in teaching Harry how to handle a wand, rolled his eyes and Harry, apparently unsure as to whether he should laugh or not, settled for smiling hesitantly. "You see, Harry? This is what you get when you try and play a friendly game of chess with a Black. Nothing but abuse and cheating."

Sirius looked rather affronted. "I resent that. I resent that very much. I do not cheat. If I had cheated I would already have beaten you. As it is I clearly out-clever you by a score of ten to one. And now I move here, and…check. Just check. Not mate. I, unlike you, know the difference."

James looked as though he very much wanted to stick his tongue out at Sirius but felt, vaguely, that that wouldn't look very clever at all. "Yes. Fine. I still say you cheated, though."

Sirius sighed with the air of the much put upon. "Say what you will. I can take it. I will simply suffer through, resigning myself to your baseless accusations while my erstwhile friend and godson cackle away at my expense…"

"There is not any cackling going on at all." called Remus, smiling in spite of himself while Harry, unable to help himself, laughed. "Absolutely no cackling whatsoever. Right, Harry?"  
"Right!"

"Right. I have no idea where these accusations are stemming from but really, Padfoot, we're all on your side, I'm sure."

"Hah. Take _that_, Master Prongs." Sirius moved again, and then a moment later swore under his breath. "Aagh. Bad move. Redo?"

James looked delighted. "Of course not, Padfoot. I'm surprised you bothered to ask."

"Mmm. I was counting, you see, on your predisposition for forgiveness and benevolence. I hope I wasn't –"

"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

As one their eyes swiveled to the doorway – Remus and James got to their feet. Albus Dumbledore, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily and his face creased in a cheerful smile, was standing in the entrance to the common room, a stack of enormously thick and altogether dull looking books held under his right arm and a mug of what looked like steaming hot chocolate in his left hand.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore." chimed Harry brightly, as Dumbledore, beaming ambivalently at nothing in particular, stepped into the room. Dumbledore turned slightly, and smiled especially down at Harry.

"Hello, Harry. Enjoying your stay in Gryffindor Tower, I trust?" Harry nodded energetically, and Dumbledore's smile grew wider. "Excellent. Excellent. Can I trouble you fine gentlemen for a moment of your time?"

Not bothering to wait for a reply, he sank down onto the comfiest armchair closest to the fire and dropped the stack of books to the floor. James and Remus exchanged a look – Sirius, with a mournful sigh, gently set their chess game to the side and turned to watch Dumbledore expectantly. The fire was crackling merrily in the background – it was well past ten thirty at night, and a steady, quiet drumbeat of rain pounded against the glass windows and only served to intensify the coziness inside the common room.

"While you've been relaxing and recovering these past few weeks I've been doing a bit of research." began Dumbledore, taking a sip from his mug of hot chocolate and sighing contentedly. "A bit of research here, a bit of investigating there, a bit of putting two and two together and I think I've finally figured everything out." He paused, and smiled. "Firstly, however, I must congratulate Mr. Black, who – after a bit of persuasion – Minister Fudge has seen fit to declare, once and for all, a free man." Sirius looked utterly and completely shocked, but before he had a chance to say anything Dumbledore raised a hand in warning. "Your are a free man, Mr. Black. But that is, I'm afraid, the good news – now we must turn our attention to the bad."

"Bad?" repeated Remus slowly, his gaze darting between Sirius and James' suddenly grave faces and Dumbledore's. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed, and got to his feet. "I've discovered how you came back, James."

There was silence for a moment. And then Sirius, the ecstatic look on his face from a moment before now faded into a look of distracted worry, slid over slightly and slung his arm protectively over James' shoulder, missing the grateful look James shot at him as he focused all of his attention on Dumbledore. "That's not bad." he said, with a conviction he didn't feel. "That's not bad! How is that bad? I mean, I mean…James coming back is _good_, right?"

"Oh, yes. Certainly. We are all, of course, quite delighted to have you back with us, James." said Dumbledore, the somber look on his face negating his pacifying words. "The problem isn't that you came back. The problem is _how_, exactly, Lord Voldemort managed to bring both you and himself back to life." Dumbledore paused, and sighed as he sank back into the armchair. The fire was beginning to die now, the orangish light it was casting about the room falling upon Dumbledore's face and making him suddenly look very, very old.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter – what do you know about blood magic?"

James frowned and shook his head slowly, shrugging Sirius' arm off of his shoulder as he slid over and drew a suddenly very quiet and almost frightened looking Harry into his arms. "Not a lot. Not anything at all, really."

"Blood magic is very old and generally very dark," said Remus slowly, his voice soft and his eyes distant as though he was trying to remember something he'd forgotten about a long time ago. "And it fell out of use centuries ago. It only works if the wizard working the spell possesses some substantial measure of his victim's blood." Remus broke off, and turned to glance confusedly at James. "You're…you're not related to the Riddles, are you?"

James, looking sickened at the very thought, shook his head vehemently. "No! I mean, well, maybe back five hundred years ago or something, but not really…"

Dumbledore looked, if anything, rather thoughtful. "That's…very interesting, actually." He paused, frowned, and after a moment sighed. "I've looked into every possibility and, considering the circumstances, this seems to be the only plausible explanation for your…resurrection. Lord Voldemort, somehow, must have obtained some of your blood and mixed it with his own." James looked as though he was going to be ill.

"What?! But, but _how_…"

"I'm not entirely sure," said Dumbledore, almost apologetically. "If I had to hazard a guess – I suppose that, immediately after you died, Lord Voldemort somehow collected some of your blood. Why, I have no idea, but the fact that you're with us now shows that something of this sort must have happened."

"That doesn't make any sense…" murmured Sirius, resting his elbows on the low table and staring attentively at Dumbledore through half lidded eyes. "There was no reason for him to –"

Dumbledore raised his hand, and Sirius fell silent. "I don't understand what his logic – or shall we say motivation – may have been either, Sirius. But the fact remains that Lord Voldemort, for some reason, connected himself to James by blood. When Lord Voldemort came back it was with the aid of a very old and almost entirely forgotten potion which had the…unusual…side effect of bringing back to life anyone whose blood Lord Voldemort shares."

There was silence for a moment. Finally Remus, his eyes half closed and his back to the fire, asked softly, "What does this mean, then?"

"It means that James and Lord Voldemort now have a tangible connection, one that Lord Voldemort knows about and, what's more, will not hesitate to exploit." said Dumbledore heavily, leaning back in the chair and staring at the far wall with a meditative expression on his face. "To what extent he'll be able to do this I've no idea. I've never heard of a case quite like yours, James, and so I'm afraid we can do little more than speculate. However," – and here Dumbledore turned his attention back to James, Remus, Sirius, and Harry, and smiled – "I'm quite sure you've nothing to fear in the immediate future. No – Lord Voldemort is far too busy assembling his followers and preparing for war to trouble about you, for the present. And when one day he remembers the connection and tries to twist it to his benefit – when that day comes we will be more than ready to face him, rest assured."

James nodded and smiled slightly as Dumbledore got to his feet with an exaggerated groan. "I'm sure you will very soon grow very tired of hearing this, but – welcome back, James."

And with that Dumbledore swept out of the room, closing the portrait hole carefully behind him.

Nobody seemed to know quite what to say. Even Harry, still wrapped tightly in James arms, was staring down at his feet, his face reddening slightly as the silence stretched on. Finally Remus coughed, and as one Sirius, James, and Harry's eyes all swiveled up to meet his.

He smiled faintly. "I think…I think everything will be fine. When all's said and done, I mean. It'll all be fine."

Sirius snorted, but he too was smiling slightly now. "You're hopeless." he informed Remus, getting to his feet and stretching as Harry slipped out of James' arms and wrapped himself in one of the dozens of blankets littering the common room floor. "You're absolutely hopeless, you know that?"

Remus rolled his eyes, watching with veiled amusement as Sirius, taking advantage of James momentary distraction, flopped back onto the floor and moved James' queen two strategically incredibly important spaces to the left. "Is this what I get for my words of comfort and consolation? Fine, then. Finish your game with James and abuse him to your heart's content, and I am returning to…" He trailed off, and frowned. "To whatever it was I was doing earlier."

Sirius laughed, but it was James, getting to his feet and sprawling out on the couch with a yawn, who replied. "Siding with Sirius against my so-called abuse, if I recall."

"Ah. So I was."

Sirius grinned, and turned to look innocently at James. "Right. Care to finish that game, then?"

James shrugged. His eyes were only half open and his black hair was, if anything, more disheveled than usual, and all of a sudden he looked very, very tired. "Nah. I'll forfeit."

Sirius looked vaguely disappointed, but shrugged it off and got to his feet again. "Right then. Mind if I join you?" Before James had a chance to reply he had changed – Padfoot, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his grey eyes dancing, jumped up onto the couch next to James and before James could object had curled up next to him with his head lying on James' chest.

James shook his head with a sigh, and patted Padfoot absentmindedly on the head. "If you must." he murmured, a slight smile dancing across his lips as closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Padfoot whined, and almost without thinking James reached over and skritched behind his ears. "Remus?"

"Hmm?"  
James cracked his eyes open, and turned to stare for a moment at Harry, curled up in an enormous blanket and all but asleep in front of the fire. "I think," he murmured softly, his face softening as he continued to gaze at Harry, "That it might be time for bed."

Remus turned also, and gazed at Harry for a moment. "I think you're right."

With a sigh Remus pushed himself to his feet, and set about maneuvering a sleepily protesting Harry onto his feet and up to the very last dormitory at the top of the spiral staircase. When he returned two minutes later it was to find James half asleep, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open.

With another sigh and a rueful smile Remus sank down to the floor, leaning back against the couch and allowing his head to rest against Padfoot's thick, shaggy side. For several minutes there was only the crackling of the dying fire, the battering of rain against the windows, and the steady rise and fall of Padfoot's chest for company – just as his eyelids were beginning to droop, however, James reached over to touch his shoulder lightly and whispered, "Moony? I've got t' talk to you about something." Even despite James' drowsy and sleep-laden tone Remus could sense an undercurrent of tension – he sat up a bit straighter, and turned around slightly to cast a quizzical look at James.

"Hmm?"

James hesitated. "I…S' about Harry. And me. An' all of us, really. But mostly – well. I was thinking about what we're gonna do when we're out of here, youknow? It's nearly the first and then we'll have to leave and I just…I was thinking about it, is all."

He fell silent, unconsciously biting down on his lower lip as Padfoot lifted his head and whined softly. Remus sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "I – I think that…couldn't we just talk about this tomorrow, James?"

James frowned at the reluctant note in Remus' voice. "I think we should talk about it now." he insisted, stroking Padfoot's head until, pacified, Padfoot settled back down and closed his eyes. "And you pay attention too, Pads." he added, tapping Padfoot on the nose and ignoring his growl of protest as he leaned over slightly to meet Remus' eyes. "This is – this concerns all of us, I think. No, really. I…we've got to think about it, is all." He took a deep breath, and tried not to notice that both Remus and Padfoot were staring intently at him now. "When we leave tomorrow – my family has a house near York, right in the middle of this great big heath with nobody around anywhere for a couple of miles. It's sort of an inherited thing and nobody's lived in it for years and years but I've been there in the summer years ago and it's huge but not too huge, you know, and it's this great old manor and, and…and with a bit of work, I was thinking that it could be…you know…" He shrugged awkwardly, and stared purposefully at the glowing remains of the fire. "Home."

There was silence.

Finally Remus, a strained smile on his face and his amber eyes looking more tired than ever, swiveled around so that he was face to face with James, with Padfoot lying motionless between them. "It sounds brilliant." he said softly, stroking Padfoot absently and refusing to meet James' eyes. "It sounds really, really fantastic, James. How long is it going to take to clean it and fix it, and all that?"

Somewhat disconcerted by Remus' lack of enthusiasm, James answered hesitantly, "About…about a month or two, I think. But if we had a full day to clean out even two or three of the rooms a bit then we could start living there right away, and…and it's not like Sirius' old house, it's not cursed or anything it's just old and…and it'll be great, there's no muggles around for miles and there's a pond and this great open space for quidditch and it…it's perfect, Remus."

Remus didn't say anything at first, but continued to stroke Padfoot's neck and stare down at Padfoot's glossy black fur. "I hope you don't mind if I come and visit sometime." he said at last, still refusing to meet James' eyes as James stared confusedly at him. "And Sirius also," he added, after Padfoot nudged his hand and whined softly. "I'm sure we won't have much time to visit, what with Voldemort being back and all, but every once and a while it'd –"

"What are you on about?" interrupted James, sliding out from under Padfoot and getting to his feet. Remus gazed up at him impassively, making no move to get to his feet as James paced back and forth. "'Won't have much time to' – what are you two on about?!"

Remus sighed. "I wouldn't want to trouble you –"

"_Trouble?!_"

"– Yes, trouble. I have a house, you know. It's not much but it's enough, and…and I don't always want to be trespassing into your life. I don't want you to always, to always feel obligated to watch out for me just because…you know…" Remus drew in a deep breath, and finally looked up to meet James' eyes. "You've got your own life now, James. I don't want to encroach on that."  
James was standing with his arms crossed, glowering down at Remus while Remus, his face coloring slightly, stared stoically back up at him. "Are you quite done feeling sorry for yourself?" asked James at last, sinking down on to the arm of the couch and too intent on glaring at Remus to notice as Padfoot changed back into Sirius and crouched down on the couch, staring at him with bated breath.

"I'm not –"

"Oh, be quiet. And you are. And Sirius would be too, if he were – oh. Hello, Sirius."

"Hi," whispered Sirius, attempting to look quite relaxed and unconcerned and failing miserably on both counts. "Keep going, don't mind me…"

James ignored him. "It's – This is ridiculous. Think about it. How many years did we live together, Remus? Seven. Seven years, and then even after that one of you was over almost every day and…and you think I _minded_ all of that? You – both of you – you're just as much family to me as Harry is. You are. And the three of you are pretty much all I've got left now and so…and so you're going to come and live with us, too. You are. Unless you'd rather live in that dilapidated hovel of yours way out in the middle of –_aagh!_"

He was rather abruptly cut off as Sirius, an enormous grin plastered across his face and a slightly maniacal gleam in his eyes, leapt across the couch and barreled straight into James, obviously intent on wrapping him in an enormous hug but instead rather effectively managing to knock him off of the couch and send both of them tumbling to the floor with a very painful sounding crash.

"_What the hell are you –_"

"You really really don't mind if we come and live with you?" insisted Sirius, pinning James down to the ground and narrowing his eyes slightly as James blinked woozily back up at him. "We solemnly swear that we will make sure Voldemort doesn't come anywhere near you or Harry – or me and Moony, come to that – and we'll not be too much trouble and, and…and when Harry goes to Hogwarts I can go with him as, you know, his pet dog, and all, and we'll be impeccably clean and Moony can cook breakfast and everything and…and you really, really don't mind?"

It was only with a great deal of effort that James managed to keep from rolling his eyes. "Sirius. You're coming to live with us. Both of you. It's settled and final. Now get _off_ of me, I can barely breathe…"

It was very obvious that what Sirius wanted to do more than anything else was hug James, but he settled for grinning messily and pulling James to his feet with a look of utter relief shining in his gray eyes. "You realize that having said all that you are now stuck with us for life, right?"

James grinned, slinging his arm over Sirius' shoulders and turning slightly to grin down at Remus, who smiled hesitantly in return. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

* * *

**A/N** - Right. Short and (yet again) sickeningly fluffy...but the plot's pretty much over at this point, so s'all good. Again - this chapter was supposed to wrap everything up, so if I missed something then PLEASE let me know!

Many, many thanks go out to everyone that reviewed, and also to _Anonymous_, _amy-the-rat_, _Genna_, _Moony'sgirlthroughandthrough_, _sigi_ (sorry he wasn't in this chapter much - he will be in the next, promise!),_ P_, and _jadelover_, the always wonderful anonymous reviewers. Thank you so much!

Next Update: _(at the moment untitled)._ In which Christmas cheer abounds, fluffiness and spiked cider ensues, and there is much awkwardness for Snape. Coming (hopefully!) on Christmas Eve.

Right. This chapter here is the second to last chapter, which means that the next chapter will be the LAST chapter. Last, as in NONE after that. So if you haven't reviewed yet then please do so - times running short!

**So. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, and if you did (or even if you didn't!) then _PLEASE REVIEW!_**

Okay. Thanks again for your patience, I hope everyone's having a fantastic December, happy holidays to all and until December 24 - _bye!_


	25. Christmastide

**A/N** - Well, I'm not _too_ late on this one...it was harder to write than I expected. It also ended up being hopelessly fluffy and rather more than a bit maudlin but...I hope you like it, regardless.

**ALSO - please read the note at the end of the chapter, as it's very important concerning the future of this storyline and a brief goodbye.**

With that being said - here it is, the last chapter of all, and I hope it finds you having a lovely Christmas with your friends and family :)

**The Track of a Storm**

By Lady Taliesin

_James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**The Track of a Storm**

_Chapter 25 – Christmastide_

_December 23, 1987_

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

No, that wasn't right. He was painfully aware of _what_ he was doing – what he didn't know was _why_ he was doing it.

He glowered down at the still almost entirely full bottle of butterbeer clasped in his hand. All around him people were shouting, laughing, crying, chattering, commiserating, boasting…it was almost enough to make him sick. The enormous cacophony inside coupled with the constant ringing of the tinny bell over the doorway as patrons entered and patrons left and the roaring of the fire in the far corner and the claustrophobic press of people all cramming together into the pub all conspired to make it the very last place on earth that Severus Snape wished to be at that moment.

He didn't have much choice in the matter, though, and the reason was this – he was Christmas shopping.

He hadn't wanted to. He'd tried to persuade himself out of it ever since November the first but with less than two days to go until the wretched holiday he'd finally surrendered and, with a scowl at the look on the Headmaster's face when he'd told him of his plans, thrown on his thickest cloak and stalked down the road to the village.

The village had looked just like a Christmas card, the gingerbread houses lightly dusted with snow and candlelight gleaming from every glass paned window. Wreaths hung on every door, carols drifted through the chilly afternoon air, and it was all so nauseatingly maudlin that it was all Severus could do not to turn around and stalk right back up to the castle.

That was before, of course.

Now Severus would have been very surprised if it looked like anything at all, on account of the massive blizzard that had appeared out of nowhere and driven him into the dubious shelter of the Three Broomsticks.

With a final scowl at the room in general Severus got to his feet, drew his cloak more tightly around him once more, and strode out into the furious white gale outside.

The little bell over the door tinkled merrily as he left, but it was lost in the screaming of the wind and the blinding ferocity of the snow outside. Squinting against the wind and the snow and realizing, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that it was now quite dark out, Severus drew his cloak up to cover his blisteringly cold nose and muttered a few choice profanities under his breath.

So much for the supposed "joys" of Christmas.

So. It seemed that the shops were all closed – not that any of them had had anything worth getting in them, to start with – and so that left him with one choice.

With a shrug and a final glare at the snowstorm raging around him Severus Snape turned briskly around and began to head back towards the castle.

He'd find something for Draco Malfoy himself.

After all – how hard could it be?

**ooooo**

Severus Snape was completely and utterly exhausted.

He'd tried _everything_. A set of Slytherin gloves, hat, and scarf – Draco already had a full set, probably more. An old yellowing picture of Lucius Malfoy, his prefect's badge glinting slightly as he prepared to enter his seventh year of school – too soon for something like that. An antique tureen filled to the brim with cookies and sweets and all sorts of treats imaginable, then – Severus suspected, vaguely, that Narcissa wouldn't appreciate that very much. In desperation he'd even tried to steal a book from the library, a huge ancient tome filled to the brim with wizarding and muggle poetry alike – but when he tried to enact that plan Madam Pince only had to turn her steely, beady eyes on him and he crumbled.

Everything. He'd tried _everything_. And it was now Christmas Eve, and all of his efforts had amounted to…nothing.

He sank onto his bed, buried his face in his hands, and with a great deal of effort managed to resist the urge to kick something.

"If anyone else I know is planning on dying in the near future and leaving me in charge of their wretched offspring," he growled under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and very determinably ignoring the Christmas carols drifting down to his dungeon room from the Great Hall, "Then I think I will just save them the trouble, and kill myself instead."

His only reply was a particularly loud burst of singing from somewhere upstairs. Through it all Severus was positive he could hear the Headmaster's voice, bellowing cheerfully along with whatever hapless students he'd managed to drag into his makeshift chorus, and Severus' scowl deepened.

This was ridiculous. It was a _Christmas_ present for a _seven_ year old. It should be _easy_.

Severus got to his feet, his coal black eyes burning with resolve once more.

He had an idea.

**ooooo**

It was very, very early in the morning.

So early, in fact, that it wasn't even properly morning yet. There were a few tendrils of orangish-looking light just starting to creep over the eastern horizon, but everywhere else the sky was a steely sort of grey and the snow – still pure and untouched from last night's storm – held a silvery edge to it.

It seemed that the world was still sleeping – there wasn't a breath of life anywhere near the house, not even so much as a breath of wind or a snatch of birdsong. Everything outside was utterly untouched and pristine – inside, however, it was a rather different story.

Sirius Black had woken up in a cold sweat, a scream dying unuttered on his lips as he'd scrambled to sit up and turn on a light. That had been hours earlier – by the time the first blushes of morning began to inch across the sky he'd been awake for a full two hours, his elbows resting on the windowsill and his black hair falling in disheveled strands around his face as he stared out into the predawn morning.

He couldn't quite remember what he'd been dreaming about anymore – Azkaban, probably, or else nightmares of what could have happened if he hadn't reached Remus and James in time – but that hardly seemed to make any difference. His face was still pale and his head was still pounding as though he'd woken up just minutes before and his hands were still _trembling_, even…

With a scowl he turned away from the window, flopping down unto his bed and burying his face in the nearest pillow.

It was all so aggravating he could hardly stand it anymore. He was fine during the day, but whenever he closed his eyes prison walls and blood and Abaddon's silky laugh all rushed in on him at once and his eyes would snap right back open again. And the most aggravating part of it all was that it had only gotten worse as time went on – he hadn't slept properly in what felt like ages, and even though he soundproofed his room every night he still noticed the concerned looks Remus and James shot him when he stumbled, red eyed and exhausted, downstairs every morning.

Bloody stupid Azkaban. Bloody stupid Abaddon Jugson. And _bloody_ stupid nightmares.

He yawned, opened his eyes, and rolled over as the first traces of sunrise began to creep into his room. "It's Christmas." he said aloud, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "It's Christmas." he repeated, louder this time as he stretched out and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. "And d'you know what sort of present these…dreams…are? A bloody _awful_ one, that's what."

A bird trilled somewhere in the distance, and Sirius grinned despite himself. "Yeah. My point exactly."

He got to his feet, and stretched with a groan. "Moony better cook the most utterly _amazing_ breakfast ever, or I think I'll just cop out of this one."

He waited for a moment for a reply, but this time there was none forthcoming so he shrugged and stumbled towards the bathroom, wincing slightly as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

A shower. A nice, long, hot shower and after that an hour or so of lounging about doing nothing. And then to wake Moony and wait for the absolutely amazing breakfast.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, and for a moment there was silence. And then all at once there was a rush of water and, at the very same instant, a sudden raucous chorus of birdsong erupting from the woods. The Sun had just tipped over the horizon and flooded the forest and the snow-covered heath with blood-red light, setting the sky ablaze and only stirring the birds to greater efforts.

As Sirius remarked an hour later, totally ensconced in a fluffy red robe and still bleary eyed and sleepy – "Let the festivities begin."

**ooooo**

Harry stared straight up at the ceiling, his emerald green eyes wide open and unblinking as he traced the cracks dashing and whirling about the ceiling with his eyes. It was only six thirty in the morning but he'd already been up for at least half an hour, afraid to move in case his dad or Sirius woke up and pelted into his room to make sure everything was alright– but it was so _hard_ waiting that he almost couldn't stand it, he almost couldn't breathe.

Christmas. _Really_ Christmas. With presents and lots of food and a fire and hot chocolate and a real tree, not just the broken, plastic one the Dursleys put up every year. It was almost too wonderful to imagine, and for one terrifying moment he was afraid he _was_ imagining it – that any minute now he'd wake up and he'd be in his cupboard again, with Aunt Petunia banging on the door demanding to know why he hadn't started cooking breakfast yet.

His breath caught and his heart began to race, and without realizing what he was doing he tried to jump out of bed – his feet caught and tangled in the blankets, and with a short scream and a painful sounding _thump_ he tumbled off the bed and landed, flat on his face, on the cold wooden floor.

He barely had time to register the pain before with a telltale creak the door to his room was pushed open and a soft, worried voice asked quietly, "Harry? Are you –"

"I'm okay," answered Harry quickly, sitting up and adjusting his glasses slightly as Remus, a thoughtful frown on his face but his amber eyes twinkling even in the faint early morning light, fixed him with his sternest look. "Really. I just fell out of bed, is all."

"Yes, I can see that." said Remus wryly, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he surveyed the scene, his eyes finally coming to rest on Harry's sheepish grin. "It wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

Harry shook his head, clambering back onto the bed and wrapping the blankets around himself once more. "No. No. I've been awake for ages but I didn't want to wake anyone up so I was trying not to move…"

Remus laughed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning to rest against the doorway as he regarded Harry through amused amber eyes. "Really?"

Harry blushed, and glanced studiously down at his hands. "I didn't mean to fall over." he said awkwardly, starting slightly as Remus walked over to the bed and, with a strength belied by his slender frame, lifted Harry off of the bed and swung him down to the floor.

"I know. And Sirius and your dad didn't hear anything – they're both still sleeping, so far as I know. What do you say we go make breakfast for them, hmm?"

Harry's face broke into a smile, and he allowed Remus to propel him gently out into the hallway and down the rickety, creaking wooden stairs. "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Happy Christmas."

He could hear Remus laugh, softly. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

**ooooo**

He knocked once. There was no answer and so he knocked again, louder this time, shivering slightly in the cold as he glanced around aimlessly and waited for someone to answer the door.

Finally after what felt like hours of waiting the heavy wooden door was pulled open and Narcissa, her face paler even than usual and a tired smile on her face, stepped into the doorway and stared at Severus in open surprise. "Severus? What are you doing here?"

Severus Snape cleared his throat, shifting the present he held in his hands awkwardly and brushing past Narcissa into the manor. "Happy Christmas," he said brusquely, shrugging off his fur lined cloak and hanging it on the silver coat hanger standing just inside the entranceway. "I don't mean to impose…"

"Not at all," said Narcissa hastily, courtesy overcoming her confusion as she led Severus down the cold gray hallway and into the room at the end of the hall. "I just – I wasn't expecting you."

The room was brightly lit but even despite that it was grim and cheerless. There were a few swags of garland and even mistletoe scattered about but it was obvious that not much energy or enthusiasm had been directed into decorating – the tree was small and wilted, sparsely decorated with garland and ornaments and beneath it all a huge flood of presents, all wrapped in the exact same paper and arranged in neat and cheerless stacks and rows.

"Draco's not awake yet." said Narcissa in a hushed voice, taking Severus' present out of his unresisting hands and setting it down gently under the tree. "Or at any rate he's not out of his room yet. I'm afraid he's not quite as excited as he normally is, what with…you know…" She drew in a deep breath, and smiled tiredly at Severus. "Well. Would you care for something to drink?"

"No," said Severus stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling distinctly uncomfortable as Narcissa sank into a nearby armchair and regarded Severus through tired eyes. "No, thank you. I just came to give Draco his present, and then I have to go back to Hogwarts."

Narcissa shook her head and laughed weakly. "It's Christmas, Severus. I'm sure the Headmaster would forgive you if you didn't go back to the school right away. And we'd – we'd appreciate it, if you stayed."

Severus shook his head hurriedly, and moved quickly toward the door. "Thank you, but no. I have important things to do. Important business. And such. Really, I can't stay. I can't. Thank you."

Narcissa made a half-hearted effort to stop him, but finally she acquiesced and escorted him back down the hallway and outside.

The day was clear as anything, the sky a perfect robin's egg blue and the grounds white and pristine in the morning sunlight. It was also cold as anything, and Narcissa shivered, wrapping her arms around her pale green dressing gown and regarding Severus pensively as the potions master fastened his cloak around himself once more. "Thank you for stopping by, then."

"My pleasure." said Severus curtly, inclining his head gravely at Narcissa as she smiled wearily at him. "Happy Christmas, and my regards to Draco."

Narcissa nodded and fixed him with a grateful look. "Happy Christmas. I will. And – Severus?"

Already halfway down the path leading away from the house, Severus turned and looked at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

**ooooo**

It was nearly nine thirty in the morning when Sirius made his grand entrance, his grey eyes dancing as he tumbled down the stairs and yawned a morning greeting. "Mmmhh…morning, all."

"Not all," corrected Remus, neatly flipping half a dozen pancakes onto a waiting platter before turning to look at Sirius. "James is sleeping, still."

Sirius snorted and waltzed over to collapse at the kitchen table. "Lazy sod. Merlin, Moony – this smells _delicious_…"

"See that he doesn't try anything, Harry." called Remus, casting a glance over his shoulder at the table as Harry laughed and Sirius rolled his eyes. "Breakfast when James gets up, and not before."

Sirius groaned, throwing his arm over Harry's slender shoulders and burying his head against Harry's neck as Harry, overcome by a fit of giggles, tried to push him away. "Ye gods, we're going to _starve_…"

Remus shook his head and sighed deprecatingly. "Go wake him up, then."

Sirius considered this for a moment, raising his head to regard Remus musingly. "…On second thought, I think I'll wait."

"He's not that hard to wake up." piped Harry, stealing a piece of toast off a teetering stack as Remus turned back to face the stove. He tore it neatly in half, offering the larger piece to Sirius, who cast Harry a grateful look and accepted it with a grin. "He never gets very mad at me when I wake him up."

"Yeah, well, that's because you're you." said Sirius with a sigh, settling back in his chair with a groan and glancing at Harry through amused and half-lidded eyes. "Me or Remus tries to wake him up, see, and he –" Sirius caught the look Remus was sending him, and hastened to amend, "– He's not quite so happy about it. Lazy sod." he repeated, allowing his chair to lean back on two legs as he stared at the table – already laid out with bacon, toast, pancakes, eggs, sausages, and all other sorts of delicious things imaginable – in undisguised hunger. "Moony, this really smells divine. It really, really does. You do realize that you've gone all…mmmhh…domestic, yeah?"

Remus laughed, pouring himself a glass of chocolate milk and joining Sirius and Harry at the table. "One of us had to. If we left you and James to do all the cooking – well. Then we probably _would_ all starve to death, I think."

"I can cook," interjected Harry, scootching his chair closer to the table and missing the worried look that Sirius and Remus shared across the table. "I'm not that bad at it. Really."

"You're fantastic." agreed Sirius, tousling Harry's hair before wrapping his arm bracingly around his godson's shoulders. "You're absolutely brilliant. But if we didn't give Remus something to do then he'd dedicate all his efforts to driving us all insane. Really, Harry – this is an act of mercy."

Remus spluttered, nearly choking on his milk as Sirius grinned and Harry laughed. Before he had a chance to reply, however, he was interrupted by a short scream coming from the direction of the stairway, quickly stifled by a series of very painful sounding bangs and thumps.

Harry looked stricken, Sirius laughed, and Remus didn't even bother to turn around. "Morning, Prongs." called Sirius loudly, a wicked grin on his face as James, rubbing the back of his head with a moan, limped into the kitchen. "You'll want to watch that first step – it's a bugger."

"Prat." mumbled James, slipping into the seat between Remus and Harry and accepting the cup of coffee Remus passed him with a grateful look. "Happy Christmas to all but you. What time is it?"

"Nine forty five." answered Remus, shooting Sirius a glare as Sirius tried to covertly spear half a dozen sausages onto his plate. "We've been waiting to eat until you woke up. And also waiting to open presents which, I'll have you know, is a tremendously difficult feat."

"Mm. Sorry. Why didn't you just –"

"We considered sending Harry in to wake you up," interrupted Sirius with a grin, ignoring the exasperated look Remus was shooting him as he turned to regard James fully, "But decided it wasn't worth the risk."

"Feel free to ignore him. He's only been up fifteen minutes longer than you."

"I can tell. You've got your shirt on inside out, Pads."

"I – oh. Yes. That was…intentional."

James shook his head but didn't say anything, and after a moment he turned to grin down at Harry. "Good Christmas thus far?"

Harry nodded slowly, his mouth too full of biscuit to speak. Finally he swallowed and said softly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping across his cheeks, "Yes. It's – it's the best Christmas I've ever had."

The table fell silent. Harry glanced studiously down at his lap while Sirius, James, and Remus exchanged a look across the table; finally James cleared his throat, shifted his chair closer to Harry's, and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Me too."

**ooooo**

Draco picked at the ribbon absentmindedly, his thoughts distant and his eyes unfocused as he slowly untied the knot and tossed the exquisite silvery gray ribbon carelessly to the side. "Mother?"

Narcissa, perched on the edge of an uncomfortable-looking green velvet armchair a few feet away from Draco, started. "Yes?"

"Do you think that, this year, maybe we could…maybe we don't have to have dinner? Not such a big dinner as usual, I mean. Please?"

Narcissa slipped down to the floor, sitting next to Draco and watching him carefully through guarded eyes. "Draco, I – I don't think your father would want us to put our lives on hold, just because he's not here anymore."

Draco nodded hastily. "I know! I know. It's just…it just wouldn't be the same, and I don't…"

Narcissa nodded slowly, brushing a strand of Draco's silvery blonde hair out of his eyes and bending down slightly to kiss him gently on the forehead. It was a mark of how very much things had changed lately that he didn't try to pull away. "Alright. A small dinner it is, then. Why don't you open your last present and then Gwell and I will help you carry all of this upstairs, you can get dressed and then we can decide what to do from there, okay?"

Draco nodded and even smiled hesitantly as he reached for the last present under the tree, a large box meticulously wrapped in solid green paper and topped with a perfectly tied silver bow. "Severus brought that for you this morning," said Narcissa softly, watching through tired eyes as Draco tore off the paper and threw it over his shoulder. "While you were asleep. You'll have to say thank you, next time you see him."

Draco nodded mutely and regarded the large white box the wrapping paper had unveiled gloomily. "I bet it's clothes." he muttered under his breath, carefully opening the box and leaning over to peer inside. A second later he gave a cry of surprise and toppled over backwards – a tiny kitten almost small enough to fit in the palm of his hand had poked its head out of the box, surveying the scene through drowsy golden eyes and mewing plaintively as Draco reached out and stroked the top of its head with one trembling finger. "It's a cat," he said unnecessarily, staring in disbelief at the coal black kitten as it leapt out of the box and began to chew on his fingers busily. "He gave me a _cat_, Mother."

The kitten turned and, purring for all it was worth now, rubbed its side against the box – the box wobbled for a moment and then toppled over, and a small parchment note tumbled out and landed, face down, at Narcissa's feet. She snatched it from the ground and read the precise, elegant handwriting in disbelief, shaking her head slowly as Draco laughed.

_Happy Christmas. This is an especial friend of mine, and as he is very firmly resolved upon living a life of comfort and indulgence I deemed it only fitting that he make your acquaintance. He answers to Byron and is altogether unsuited to civilized life – he has a good heart, however, and I'm certain that in your excellent company he'll soon become adapted to a life of sophistication and ease. Happy Christmas, all my best, etc – Severus._

_PS – Give him a chance, Narcissa._

"Can we keep him, Mother? Please?"

Narcissa looked up slowly, the note clenched tightly in her fist and a gleam of indecisiveness in her eyes. "I –" She broke off and swallowed, glancing back down at the note as Draco – the tiny kitten clutched against his chest and his grey eyes wide and pleading – stared at her with bated breath. Slowly, she began to smile.

"Yes. Yes, we can."

**ooooo**

It wasn't a particularly large house.

It wasn't even a particularly comfortable house. There were drafts and the floorboards creaked and there was quite a large extended family of mice camped out cheerfully in the basement. But it was undeniably cozy – a blazing fire crackled away cheerfully on the hearth, casting a warm orangish glow over everything. Frost decorated the paned windows, garland and chains of cut out snowflakes adorned every available space, pictures crowded an odd mishmash of side tables and cabinets and in the far right corner of the living room stood the Christmas tree, glorious in its hodgepodge array of homemade and glass ornaments, strings of tinsel, and enchanted candles and beneath it all stacks of opened gifts and mountains of discarded wrapping paper.

It was almost midnight. Harry had long since fallen asleep and was lying on the couch, his arm dangling over the side and gently brushing against James's shoulder and a whole pile of blankets painstakingly tucked around him.

"Here you go, then. Sirius Black's famous hot chocolate, served especially for you with marshmallows and whipped cream and, of course, a dash of rum."

Remus made a face as he accepted the enormous, steaming mug from Sirius. "You didn't…"

Sirius snorted, careful to keep his voice low so as not to awake Harry as he settled down between Remus and James. "Nah, not for yours. Or yours, Prongs. Just for mine because I am, of course, the very finest hot chocolate connoisseur out of us all."

James smiled briefly. "Truly something to be proud of, Padfoot."

Sirius nodded solemnly, taking a sip of his drink and yelping slightly as it scalded his tongue. "Ow. S'hot."

"You know," said Remus musingly, cradling his mug of hot chocolate in his hands and staring absorbedly at the dancing fire, "I think that, considering this summer, it's something of a miracle that we all made it to Christmas mostly unharmed at all."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. I knew we'd get here, right enough. What was it that McGonagall used to say…that we were 'nothing if not irrepressible'. Something like that."

"Yes, but…a year ago you were in Azkaban, James was dead, Harry was at the Dursleys and I was by myself. And now just one year later all of that's changed and it's just – you were always sure that it would turn out alright in the end? Even when it seemed like things just kept going from bad to worse?"

"You're in an odd mood tonight." remarked James, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and turning slightly to regard Remus. "Is anything wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh. No, nothing's wrong. It's just…for those six years you two – you three, really – were gone I used to wish for this so badly and now it's here it's just…it's still hard to come to terms with, is all."

Sirius laughed softly, and slung his arm over Remus' shoulders. "I, for one, assure you that I have no intention of leaving. Ever." Remus rolled his eyes, but made no move to shrug Sirius' arm off.

"Well. That's a relief."

James grinned as well, and scooted around so that his back was to the fire and the three of them were sitting together in a tight circle. "A toast, then. To friends, Christmas, and Padfoot's magnificent hot chocolate making skills."

"I'll second that." yawned Sirius, raising his mug to knock against James and accidentally spilling hot chocolate over them both. "Oops. Sorry. Moony?"

Remus had made no move to raise his own mug, but when Sirius said his name he looked up, smiled softly, and raised his glass. "To family."

There was silence for a moment. And then as one Sirius and James raised their own mugs to Remus', the sound of the glasses clinking together and the merry blazing of the fire the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.

"To family."

**The End.**

**(Almost.)**

In quite a lot of reviews I recieved for the last chapter you guys mentioned the fact that there was no confrontation with the Dursleys - something that I completely forgot about! So rather than have that be a chapter and push this chapter back one I decided to make that a one shot. So around early January look out for a one-shot featuring the showdown with the Dursleys.

So it isn't _quite_ over yet...but still close enough that I'm getting choked up writing this. Yes. I'm a sap. But...this story's taken up about two years of my life and I just wanted to say that I am **SO** grateful to all of you guys who read this and made it such a wonderful experience.** I will make a point of replying to each and every review I recieve for this chapter and if you haven't reviwed yet then please, PLEASE do so - because this is it.**

There will not be a sequel. I do have the plans for a few sequels but I don't have the time - if you like I can send you the plans for them, just ask me in a review and leave me your email (or a signed review) and I'll be glad to.

Alright. I have to go now, so - **THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING.**

Happy Christmas, and - good bye.


	26. Confrontation

**A/N—**HELLO!! My gosh, how I've missed you all—very long time, very little see :) Anyways, here's a bit of a present for you all—the Dursley confrontation! And also, a tremendously important announcement cleverly disguised with an actual chapter. Ooh, the subterfuge…

* * *

**Confrontation**

By Lady Taliesin

_A companion-of-sorts to Track of a Storm – do NOT read this without having read that first!! In which our three favorite marauders make a short detour to No. 4, Privet Drive to pay the Dursleys a little… "visit"…_

**Disclaimer** – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

**Confrontation**

_September 17, 1987_

The path up to the house was impeccably kept, each and every brick empirically clean and spotless and the bushes bordering the path on either side neatly trimmed and altogether quite in order. It was a warm day out, the late afternoon sun casting a warm golden glow over the manicured lawn and the row upon row of identical houses that bordered it on either side. All told it was a very pleasant, ambivalent sort of day, barely more than a hint of a breeze and hardly a cloud in sight.

"What a dump."

"Manners, Sirius," chided Remus, too intent on figuring out which way to hold the enormous muggle map of Little Whinging he held in his hands to spare a glance over at Sirius. "It's all a bit…staid, I'll grant you, but hardly a dump."

"Quit being rational, Moony," scolded Sirius, military-like. "It's depressing. They all look the bloody _same_. Imagine growing up in a place like this; no wonder Harry said their son is on the path to becoming an arse-faced thug…"

"That's _not_ what Harry sa–"

There was a sudden, loud _crack_, and then – "Sorry I'm late!"

James Potter, out of breath and pale-faced, hurried up the garden path to Number Four, Privet Drive, shoving his wand into his jeans pocket as he joined Remus and Sirius and slung an arm over both of their shoulders. "Small mission…lost track…came as fast as…miss anything?"

"Nothing at all," answered Remus mildly, folding the map up and shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans as he cast a warning look at Sirius over James' head. "We only got here –"

"Forty sodding _minutes_–"

"– ago." finished Remus, ducking out from under James' arm and leading the way up to the freshly painted door. "And it took us awhile to find the house, anyway, so you're hardly late at all. Your directions were a bit…unclear…"

"What? It looks just like I said," answered James vaguely, bounding up to the door and knocking hard on the brass doorknocker, wiping a smear of blood off of his face as an afterthought.

"Every bloody house in the bloody _neighborhood_ looks just like what you said…"

Remus kicked Sirius warningly in the shin, eliciting a loud "_Aagh! _Bloody werewolf –" just as the door opened and an enormous, walrus-mustached man stared down at them, an expression of absolute shock slowly spreading across his purple face.

"Mr. Vernon Dursley, I believe!" said Remus brightly, after a pause that streamed to stretch for hours. "Lovely to see you again. Do you mind if we come in?"

"Mmrgh…y-you – _you_ –"

"Why, thank you. I can assure you, this won't take any time at all…"

**ooooo**

"…So as you might have noticed, Harry's been missing for quite a while now," continued Remus, helping himself to another one of Petunia's store bought biscuits as both of the Dursleys continued to stare at James and Sirius in absolute shock. "You've doubtless been concerned about this, but I can assure you that he's perfectly safe – for a week or so it was touch and go, but for the past month he's been fine. I believe Professor Dumbledore sent you an owl or two concerning the matter, but as both returned with their messages undelivered we thought it might be best to tell you how things stand in person."

Sirius cleared his throat pointedly, and both Dursleys flinched. "I have, of course, already mentioned the extreme pointlessness of this entire –"

"On his birthday, July thirty first, your nephew was kidnapped," interrupted Remus, raising his voice over Sirius'. "He was seized by one of Voldemort's servants, who brought him back to Voldemort so that the Dark Lord could kill him." He paused briefly, apparently waiting for some sort of reaction from either of the Dursleys – but they both appeared to have sunk into a sort of catatonic shock, and neither gave any sign that they'd even heard him at all. He coughed, tried to ignore the triumphant "told-you-so" look on Sirius' face, and continued. "Fortunately I was able to accompany both Abaddon – Voldemort's servant, rather – and Harry to Voldemort's headquarters, and rather than kill him immediately the Dark Lord allowed us to remain together for nine days until…well…anyways. He planned to wait nine days before he killed us. We did, eventually, manage to escape, along with James and Sirius and since then we've all been perfectly alright, a spot of trouble getting to Hogwarts but you needn't worry, because everything's fine with your nephew. And also, of course, with the rest of us. Er. So. Anything anyone else would like to add?"

"Yes, actually," began James, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest – Petunia and Vernon screamed, and backed as far away from James as they possibly could without having to risk getting out of their seats. James, for his part, blinked. "Er. Hello. First off, I'd say it's nice to see you again, but the truth of the matter is –"

"H-he's – y-y-you're – a _ghost_ –" gasped Petunia, clutching Vernon's arm as her horse-like face turned as white as a sheet. James sighed, and rubbed his eyes.

"No, actually –"

"You're supposed to be dead!"

"I was, you see, until –"

"Abomination!"

"Filth! Slime!"

"Prat!"

"There's nothing 'abominable' about it, really; I came straight here from the job, no time to shower, sorry; and shut up, Sirius," said James patiently, sitting down on the arm of the couch and ignoring Petunia's shrill squeak of protest. "As I was saying – Harry told me, told _all_ of us, all about you."

There was utter silence, for a moment.

Finally Sirius coughed loudly, and drew his wand out of the pocket of his jeans with a flourish. "Care to continue?" he asked James pleasantly. He was staring absorbedly at the wand as he spun it between his fingers, but he was perfectly aware of the Dursleys following the wand's every movement.

"He sugarcoated rather a lot of it," said James after a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as the Dursleys turned their frightened attention to him. "But he told us. About sleeping in a cupboard, about doing all of your chores while your son – Dudley, is it? – ran around with his friends and terrorized the neighborhood. About never having quite enough to eat, just the scraps none of you cared for. About getting bullied at school, in the park, _in your home_. About having to wear all of his cousin's old clothes, even though none of them ever fit. And as it turns out, you never called the police after he disappeared."

After a moment's silence Vernon cleared his throat. "I don't know what kind of a trick this is," he began nastily, "And I don't know what that little brat told you, but whatever it was –"

Sirius jumped to his feet, and pointed his wand straight at Vernon's heart. "You _ever_ call him that again, and I swear I'll –"

"Sirius!" said James sharply. Sirius broke off, but didn't move – his narrowed grey eyes were fixed on Vernon Dursley, who was visibly trembling as he tried to shrink against the back of his chair. "This isn't a trick," said James slowly, turning slightly to regard Vernon again as Remus pulled Sirius gently but firmly back down into the chair. "We won't bother you with the details, but the gist of it is – I'm back. And if you ever so much as come near Harry again, I will personally make sure your government has you locked away for life. Is that in any way unclear?"

Both Vernon and Petunia looked too petrified to speak – taking their silence for assent, James nodded curtly and stood up. "Excellent. With any luck we'll never have to meet again, so – goodbye." And with that James turned around and strode out of Number Four, Sirius and Remus close behind.

**ooooo**

"Well, that was a fine start to a brilliant day," said Sirius happily, licking his fingers daintily and blinking against the bright September sunlight. "Dursleys' psyches effectively crushed, three cones of mint chocolate chip ice-cream effectively consumed…"

Remus, apparently unable to stand it any longer, flicked his wand at Sirius – instantly an entire hoard of napkins sprang to life and attacked his face, frantically scrubbing away the enormous mess of melted ice-cream and whipped cream that reached as far as his temples. "One werewolf effectively disgusted," he informed Sirius, before turning to James and helping himself to a spoonful of James' as yet untouched chocolate milkshake. "Feeling alright?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." James smiled reassuringly at him, but behind his thin wire-rimmed glasses his hazel eyes held a faraway look. "I'm just – just thinking, is all."

"About?" prompted Remus after a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gazed at James thoughtfully. James rolled his eyes.

"Nothing terribly important, I promise," he said, making a face at Remus and reaching down to take a bite of his milkshake, only to discover that Remus was still holding onto his spoon. "Hey! Give that back, you thieving –"

"A compromise?" suggested Remus, holding the spoon just out of James' reach and smiling benignly. "Something is obviously bothering you. Tell me, and I will consider – _consider_, mind you – giving back the spoon to this excellent chocolate confection."

James looked appalled. "I bought that milkshake! And you've already had one, besides!"

Remus made a pretense of ignoring him, and busied himself with the spoon. "Yes, well. What can I say – it was delicious. Care to start speaking, then, before it all melts?"

With a huff James reached over and seized the spoon out of Remus' hands. "It's not that important, really. I was just thinking about today, is all. And about how bloody unlucky Harry is, too."

"Unlucky?" Remus pondered this for a moment, waving his wand absentmindedly and transfiguring his fork into a spoon. "On the contrary. His dad came back from the dead, and has taken him away to live in the most perfect house he could possibly imagine – his words, not mine. I'd say he's quite lucky."

"Yes, but that he _needed_ to be taken away in the first place. Think about it – he's one year old and his mum dies, his dad dies, one of his uncles supposedly dies, another is incarcerated, and the third is a sort of outcast from the rest of society. All within the course of a week. He has to go and live with those wretched muggles, doesn't know a thing about magic, doesn't know a thing about his family, is bullied and starved and, and just neglected his whole life…and the only way he finally gets out of it is by being kidnapped by Voldemort and left to die in that cell with you. Unlucky, like I said."

"No—pure luck," corrected Sirius, finally swatting the last of the napkins away from his face and joining the conversation. Remus nodded in agreement, and helped himself to another scoop of James' milkshake.

"Consider the chances of all of us ending up in that dungeon together, and all of us managing to get out more or less unscathed. The odds against it are rather high. Astronomical, in fact. The odds of you even coming _back_ in the first place –"

James rolled his eyes, and threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, I get the point. We were incredibly lucky. Me, Harry, you two sods…"

"I resent that," interjected Sirius, sounding injured. "I add three words into your conversation and get branded with your undeserved, inequitable slander…"

"…All of us really, truly, unbelievably lucky. Former circumstances entirely aside. And – look, just _take_ it, would you? You werewolves and your chocolate fetishes, honestly…"

"I am a connoisseur, not a fetishist, firstly," said Remus, pulling James' milkshake over to himself and taking another enormous spoonful. "And secondly, my…passion…for chocolate has nothing to do with that. It is a Lupin family trait, and has only been aggravated over the years thanks to post-full moon offerings from yourself and Mister Black."

"You hear that, Prongs?" said Sirius with a laugh, getting to his feet and stretching leisurely. "He's blaming us for his addictions, the nerve…"

James just rolled his eyes and laid a handful of coins down on the table, getting to his feet as he did so. "Come on, children. Time to go home."

* * *

**A/N—**I'm feeling tremendously nostalgic, at the moment…oh, goodness. That was fun :) Anyways, the actual point of this "update" was, I'm afraid, not strictly to give you all a chapter and a bit more of a wrap-up to the plot, although I was certainly delighted to do so—the actual point is to tell anyone and everyone who is interested that **THE NEW VERSION IS NOW (almost) ONLINE!! **Yes, indeed. Not quite online, because I had all sorts of issues with ff(dot)net this morning, but almost online! A brand spanking NEW VERSION of Track of a Storm, about a billion times better than this version—good writing! An actual plot! Loads of new subplots! Romance! Intrigue! Angst! Just basically pretty wonderful, all around. And, with the exception of the first chapter, a VERY VERY DIFFERENT VERSION!!

For more specific info on the NEW VERSION and to know where/when it'll be posted, see my profile! In the meantime, I miss you all tremendously, and if you do end up reading the NEW VERSION, which will start being posted within a week (and you should, because I will adore you forever!!), you should review (because I will adore you even more!!)!!

But anyways, so far as this version goes, it is now officially all done and over. So—

**THE END.**

Goodbye, and HUGS to you all!!


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